


This is Our Peace

by orphan_account



Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Gran Gran is my OC, Hurt/Comfort, In this house we Love and Protect Gran Gran, Let Valery be happy, Love my Soviet Grandads, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, My First Work in This Fandom, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, don't let this die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-11-27 05:11:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 57,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20942816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Valery is given a new oppertunity for happiness after death, and yet his memories and choices haunt him even in his new peace. Finding no friends and family in the afterlife, Valery is relieved when a familiar face arrives and a slow dance of strange feelings grows between them which terrifies Valery and brings unsuspecting happiness. But will this dance last or will scared and wild feelings burn away the love that is building?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers! Thank's for giving this a chance I'm really excited to write this, I've had writters block for years and Chernobyl series was just the right thing to kickstart me writting again. A few things I should mention before we continue-
> 
> This fic is NOT based on the real life people but the characters from Craig Mazin's mini-series.
> 
> This fic does have mentions of suicide, but past suicide so if you're not comfortable with that just keep that in mind it will only be something that happened in the past. 
> 
> This is a slow burn baby, but I do enjoy feed back and constructive criticism so if you like something let me know!
> 
> Other than that, happy reading guys. I've already written a few more chapters but I won't post them until they are perfect.

_Dark and empty_ Valery thought, and the thought seemed to bounce and echo through whatever consciousness he existed in. When he woke, he could not call it waking for whatever his consciousness lived in, it was one where his senses betrayed him and only his mind whispered faintly. He tried to turn but there was no sensation of turning. He tried to breathe but felt no rise of his chest and no rush of air. _Is this death then? Is this my eternity?_ Valery thought staying alive with cancer sounded better.

**‘It is the Beginning’ **a voice in the void said and the words seem to boom through the floating consciousness that was Valery Legasov, and then it continued. **‘But it is also the End.’ **Valery’s mind shuddered at the weight of the voice, it was neither masculine nor feminine but scathing like sharp ice. ‘Is this my existence?’ Valery asked yet he could not feel his face nor mouth move with the words. ‘Will this nothing be forever?’

**‘Your life ended, but your memories, your dreams, your heart, your decisions; they all make the existence of you’ **the voice replied, **‘you change from one plane of being to another.’**

‘I never believed in a God’ said Valery, ‘I’m never normally proven wrong, seems almost cruel to be when I’ve just died.’ A laugh ripped through the void and a sharp jolt of coldness ran through him. _I felt that! _Valery thought but the coldness flowed away, and the feeling of sensation left him again. **‘Yes, most of those who exist in this transcendence often call me God, though I am surprised that you, a man of science and facts, came to this conclusion with no supporting evidence’ **the voice said mockingly.

‘No evidence?’ Valery questioned and almost felt a phantom of a brow raise in disbelief. ‘No, no you are wrong. There is plenty of evidence! An unseen deity that is guiding this “transcendence” whatever that means and exists as a being after death, that does not seem to be something less than a god’ Valery finished assuredly.

**‘Seldom does someone argue with me’ **the voice replied, and warmth cascaded through Valery almost like a reward, he sighed at the pleasantness and felt a small victory when the warmth did not disappear. **‘But you don’t ask questions, nor the right ones’**

_Not the right questions? _Valery thought, and true to his nature he thought about where he is and what is happening with a surprising calmness of one who has just died. Still a hypothesis evaded him. ‘If you are not a God then what are you?’ Valery asked.

**‘I am one with you and with your journey. I am both your mind and your experience, navigating this change.’**

‘So, you are me?’

**‘In a small way, I am more like your shadow or your reflection. I walk with you, but I’m am never part of you, we are bound but not merged.’**

‘That doesn’t make sense.’

**‘It often doesn’t’** the voice chuckled, and a sudden weight wrapped around Valery’s mind. It felt clumsy to the point of cumbersome, but the warmth that was brought to Valery soon moved through the heaviness. It was like being wrapped in the warmest weighted blanket in the world.

‘Hm, okay then’ said Valery as a large yawn passed through him, the weight that is now warm rose with the breath. Valery breathed again and revelled in the sensation of breath and movement. ‘You said a change to a different plane. What is the different plane and where am I going?’

**‘That is the question I am most often asked’** the voice replied. **‘Where you go for the rest of this eternity is also dictated on your deeds and the manner of death. Where you will go is a place of peace and respite where all people like you deserve, through your death you delayed pain for hundreds of thousands.’ **As the voice spoke with surprising gentleness to its tone, sensation moved through Valery, the weight around his mind began to take shape. It folded and shrunk in areas but grew in others, something flexed and Valery felt hands take shape. With these new hands he ran them down his body, over is chest, his legs, his face and his feet, the sensation made his skin dance. There was also a sudden pain around his throat, a shortness of breath that made his new lungs burn, Valery grabbed at his throat but felt nothing there. **‘I am sorry’ **said the voice, **‘there is often phantom pains from death that cannot be avoidable. It will pass.’**

‘I should hope so’ Valery wheezed rubbed at his soft skin, ‘this wasn’t exactly pleasant the last time!’ the voice did not respond. Valery’s blindness began to be peppered with bright flashes of light, sudden nerves rattled Legasov and he looked around quickly. ‘W-who will be there? When I finish…this? Valery gestured vaguely.

**‘People like you Valery. People whose deeds and morals matches yours, people where you can live and find your peace’ **The voice was becoming fainter, and Valery soon felt the first gentle caress of wind, he smelt the freshness of young tree saplings and heard the morning calls of an owl. The lights in his eyes flashed with colour and began to blur into something bright and alive.

* * *

The sun was bright and gentle, the first thing to coax Legasov from his muffled sleep. Warm sun-beams kissed his face making his eye lids flutter up and squint at the sun hiding behind great swaths of oak leaves. Cursing, Valery fumbled around and found his glasses in his breast pocket, when he slipped them on, he could see the dark green veins stark against the blade of the leaf. It looked like thin green skin with chlorophyll instead of blood in the veins. What was supposed to be soothing bird song just grated Valery’s ears and he looked around accusingly for the culprits but was only re-warded with brief glimpses of bright red feathers.

Grumbling, Valery stood up and then noticed with elation, how his breath passed easily in his lungs with a fresh crispness. For a few long moments he just stood frozen, his left-hand clutching at his chest and breathed clearly for the first time in years. His shoulders shook and tears beaded in his eyes, but he quickly shook them away. At the movement dark red hair flopped in front of his face like a flag. Valery paused and tentatively pinched some of his hair and pulled it towards his face. It was longer and darker and full of richness that he lost in the last 10 years of his life.

‘Oh…’ Legasov sighed and tentatively petted the lock. Slowly Valery dropped the hairs and began to study himself slowly, beginning with his hands. They were fuller, less claw like in his last few weeks, the spots and prominent veins no longer blemished his hands, though freckles did scatter the top of them. He felt his arms and shoulders, tighter and bulkier then they were before. His back no longer ached, and his bones no longer complained with each minor movement. If you have never been old, then you cannot know the joy of the breath of youth. He looked around with hungry desperation until his eyes landed on a small pond, barely a meter wide.

He rushed towards it, noticing how fast his body moved with such ease and how the ground flew beneath his feet. A creeping vine snapped around his ankle, and Valery staggered to his knees a few feet from the pond, leaning over quickly Legasov gapped at his reflection. The man in the reflection could be no older than 40, his face was fresh and full, lacking most of the gauntness he used to possess. Valery traced the old scars on his jaw, shallower with youth, and then the lines of his face. Once deeper then his age should dictate, now there was only crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes and a slight line or two in his brow. ‘Oh lord…’ Valery gasped. The feeling of wellness and youth was so foreign that he began to cry slightly, his tears pattering into the pond. For how long Valery sat there, watching himself while gently touching his face and other parts of his body, he could not tell. He felt no fatigue or tiredness, and the sun refused to move, yet he had the vague feeling he sat there for no short amount of time. It was blissful and Valery wrapped his arms around his chest.

It was at the crunch of footsteps on acorns that Valery stood up and looked around with more detail. Over in the thinner parts of the forest, there was a vague shape of buildings and a wisp of smoke that curled over the trees. An old hunched figure ripped some bark off a tree and stared at it, their face hidden in a patterned silk shawl. Legasov made some noise at the back of his throat and the figure face snapped up, revealing an old, old woman with olive skin and burning yellow eyes. She peered at him and quickly came bumbling over, her head lifted with pride barely came up to Valery’s chest, but her eyes a more burnt yellow up close stared unblinking into his and she was all but towering over him.

‘You there!’ she said with a deep voice laced with a heavy accent. ‘Your name?’

‘…Valery?’ Valery said with uncertainty.

The old woman frowned and shook her head in a chiding way. ‘Valery…’ she muttered and shook her head more vigorously. ‘Another Russian!’

Offended, Valery frowned back at the woman. ‘Yes, I’m Russian’ said Valery and raised a brow. ‘I’m Soviet!’

‘Pah, Commies’ the woman muttered and shook her head.

_Commies?!_ ‘Oh goodness, please don’t tell me you’re American?’ Valery asked.

The woman stared at him and then cackled, her wrinkled face splitting into a wide grin. ‘No, Americano’s worse. My home was in Sinaloa.’

‘Sinaloa?’ Valery’s accent butchered the name.

‘Mexico’ the woman nodded proudly, her heavy accent rolling over the words.

Valery stared at her while a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘Well I suppose that’s better than America.’

The woman laughed like he said some dirty joke and then took him by the arm. ‘Come.’ She wasn’t suggesting and all but dragged him in her gnarled hand. ‘Russian child may be better than Americanos.’

‘Wait, you never gave me your name?’ Valery staggered after the woman, but she didn’t reply and dragged Valery mercilessly through the trees

* * *

Valery was soon dragged down a neatly packed brick road, the bricks were a warm terracotta that seemed to soak up the light. On either side of the street there was smatterings of large aframe houses. All large two-story abodes with white plaster walls embellished with dark wood awnings, roof shingles and a heavy engraved door. All was hugged by the forest and yet Valery could smell salt on the air. ‘Is there a beach nearby?’

‘Yes’ was all the Latino babushka would say.

They walked a bit further and the more Valery looked at the buildings and road, the more they just didn’t quite look right. The road was a strange match with the houses, a dirt packed road would suit the aesthetic better, and the houses stood like spotlights against the green of the forest. Valery tripped again on a little bit of jutting brick and for some reason Boris Shcherbina’s voice grumbled in his head. _‘Waste of good brick. You could build something from this!’ _he would say. Valery quickly shook his head, he couldn’t… It wouldn’t do to think about him just yet, but he wondered if there is a chance of newsprints in this realm.

‘Do we get newsprints here?’ he asked.

The woman looked at him quickly and shrugged. ‘Some days we do some days we don’t’ she said stopped in front of one of the aframe looking cottages. ‘This house’ she pointed, ‘this is yours.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Wasn’t here last night. Appeared, and then so did little Russian boy’ she pat his hand and nudged him towards the door. ‘Go and settle. I’ll bring Tamales later’ she said with certainty and wandered off.

‘What are Tamalleys?!’ Valery called but was promptly ignored. Sighing, he turned and stared at his new home. It didn’t feel right, there was a strange anxiety in his stomach, and he shifted his feet uneasily. He never truly believed in the after-life, but when he thought about it, he always thought his family would be there. Valery hated being proven wrong again. Valery trudged up the stairs to his house.

When he opened the door, he immediately began a very organised analyses of the place. Cataloguing every room, with its contents and its practicality. He was very pleased to discover a substantial study on the top floor, with numerous bookshelves but all disappointingly empty. Next was a modest ensuite bedroom with a four posted double bed, a large wardrobe (also empty) and a large glazed window looking out onto the road with a viewing seat. Valery approached the bed and frowned at the beastly thing. _Too big_ he thought, _could easily fit some shelves in here if that was just a comfortable single bed. Besides never a person to stay the night._

Down stairs was three large rooms, a beautiful kitchen with a huge iron oven and varnished wood furnishings, a comfortable sitting room with low leather sofas, woven rugs and a stone fire place. The last room was a dinning room with a large rustic looking table to sit seven people. Valery frowned again at this, there was no family nor the few friends he had to dine with, and he was in no mood to make friends. Anger and anxiety twisted sharply in Valery’s stomach and his breath became short, _god what I wouldn’t do for a smoke_ he thought. He stared at the table and saw only himself seated there in a house full of silence, at least his home in the living world was made for one person. This house demanded attention in the empty places. Valery left that room and closed the double doors to it, not knowing when it would be re-opened.

It was when Valery opened the back-door did he see something that puzzled him deeply. Behind the house and against the backdrop of the forest was a large overgrown garden. It was a tangle of ivy, plant litter and wild flowers. Valery walked over and pulled a delightful yellow flower from the ground and studied it…It and this garden irritated him. The more he looked the more he could see the overgrowth and wildness that seemed to lunge out of the forest behind it. The more he looked the more he could see the fighting beauty struggling in this near desolation. The brashness of the garden deafened the silence within the house, it was so loud he could almost forget the loneliness.

‘I could clean Chernobyl, I can damn well clean a garden!’ Valery put the flower on the steps behind him and rolled up his sleeves. He began to rip up the ivy, and his hands soon became green in the plant’s chlorophyll blood.

* * *

A strange time passed, days moved slowly almost too slow and when the sun finally lowered towards the horizon he felt no tiredness. When he did sleep, it felt like he slept for many many hours. He felt little hunger until he smelt Babushka’s tamales and ate her food, the Mexican cuisine was odd but so delicious it was fast becoming his favourite food. She finally told him her name, she was adamant it was Gran Gran, and despite Valery’s argument that she wasn’t born with that name she would not budge so he was reduced to calling her Gran, or when she was in a good mood, Babushka. And yet days and nights did pass in Valery’s too large house, and they passed uncountably. 

And so, when Valery wasn’t ripping up weeds from the garden, he was escorting Babushka into the modest town that sat just down the road where the forest began to thin, and the air smelt saltier. It was here he met some of the other _commies_ Babushka spoke of. They were typical, with their brown eyes and dark hair, they nodded and said hello and greeted Babushka warmly. But they had heard of Chernobyl, and Valery was almost certain that more than a few of them died from it, because eventually the question was asked: How did you die? And the answer was always that place. Their faces would blanch and pale, eyes would quickly look away. It infuriated Valery for he too died from that place no matter if it was years later or hours.

However, one day, on the journey to town, Valery saw some paper sticking out of his letter box. It was the first thing he had seen in it. ‘What has little Valery found’ Gran Gran, reached in before he could take it and unrolled a heavy newsprint. A large dark photo surrounded by Cyrillic text dominated the front page and Valery felt his heart squeeze painfully at the man looking indirectly out of the picture. Gran Gran was saying something that Valery couldn’t hear as he reached around her and quickly pulled the newsprint from her grasp. His fingers traced the photo delicately, touching the grainy gauntness of the face, the dark bags of the eyes and the thinning hair. He looked so tired and so thin and small and weak and sickandsickandsick-

‘Valery!’ Gran Gran shouted. ‘Who is it?!’

‘Borja…’ Valery wheezed, and tears dripped onto the print. ‘It’s Borja.’

‘Who is this Borja, Valery? Valery? Valery!’ Gran Gran called but Valery was already walking back into his house. He closed the door quietly and his legs were trembling too violently that he found himself slumped back against the door to the ground. The black blotches of Cyrillic looked clinical and clean, but the words made his breath taste like ash in his mouth.

_“Spitak Earthquake Kills Thousands; Chernobyl Liquidator to Clean the Wreckage”_

‘Oh Boris, they are trying to kill you faster’ he touched the face and wished it was warm skin instead of cold paper he held.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again readers! This update is quick what a success! A few things first, I am truly delighted with the wonderful feed back I was given and the kudos it really fuels the writing tank.
> 
> One thing is that this chapter starts in Gran Gran's POV before going back to Valery (trust me read her POV it's important). But that's about it for main messages, buckle up for this chapter, its....fun.
> 
> Always appreciate Kudos and reviews guys (they are a writers drug), I hope to have the next chapter up soon but I am also working and studying so it may be a week or a little over that.

Babushka.

Gran Gran’s old hands picked up one of the un-husked corn cobs at the vendors stall and gently ran a gnarled knuckle down the thick green leaves. The kernels felt thick and ripe. She then grasped it in both hands and suddenly twisted it and held it close to her nose and breathed in deeply. The corn smelt sweet and beautiful and for a moment Gran Gran could see fields of swaying corn and hear her daughters chasing each other through the crop with laughter echoing around them.

‘I’ll take three’ she said and placed three ears of the corn in her woven basket. She then pulled out from her pocket a lovely sewn cloth trimmed with lace and handed it over. There was no currency in this place, only trade and gestures of neighbourly kindness

‘This is wonderful, you are so clever with your hands’ the young Ukrainian woman smiled and held the cloth to her cheek. ‘Do you need one of my boys to help carry that for you?’ she then asked and gestured to a young Brazilian child who quickly stood to his feet.

‘No’ she shook her head and waggled a finger at the child. ‘Young boys have better things to do than walk an old woman home. Kick a ball, chase a chicken’ she advised. The child shrugged and sat down, a little too quickly for the vender’s taste as she quickly cuffed him up the head.

‘Where is that man? Legasov…’ the woman frowned as if the name tasted like spoiled goat’s milk. Gran Gran nearly frowned at the woman’s obvious distaste but kept her face neutral. She was not going to step her old feet into a pile of shit known as soviet politics, but still. She knew less than little about the Russian boy she took under her wing, except that if he does anything in his garden it is with cool calculation and ruthless execution. That and he likes her cooking. But it is clear from the other Soviet people in the neighbour-hood that something had happened recently, something Valery is more deeply involved in.

‘He is busy’ Gran Gran said and began to close her bag. ‘Some men also have better things to do than take an old lady for a walk.’

‘Still, you do too much for him- ‘

‘I’ll be the judge of that’ Gran Gran said primly and began to leave the market. 

As she walked, she thought more about Valery and decided to take the long route home, by the sea. That always reminded her of Sinaloa with the winding cliff faces and dark blue waves, it made her feel more peaceful in this strange place with odd houses and people. When she first came to this place, she couldn’t make heads or tales of time and could only estimate what time had passed by asking the new ones that showed up what year it was when they died. But after a while, you begin to adjust, and suddenly knowing how long you’ve been here is not so difficult to guess. And Gran Gran had been there for a long, long time.

When the sounds of crashing waves reached her ears, she closed her eyes and sighed and placed her feet at the very edge of the cliff. In another world this would be terrifying, here it was just freeing. She thought of Valery, thought of his dark red hair and his blue eyes behind his glasses, and despite how he looks, something about him reminds her of her son. Javier. Her beautiful boy is so smart and so shy it was almost awkward. But when he smiled it was like the sun warming your face, his laugh was rare but when he laughed it matched the loveliness of the churches bells in the distance.

‘Oh Javier’ she sighed and blew a kiss to the wind. She didn’t know where he was, dead or alive.

She began to walk again. _Something is wrong with Valery_ she thought. A long while ago, she spotted a newsprint in his letter box and felt a thrill of excitement, only to be disappointed when the entire text was nothing but that strange Russian language with its backwards letters and odd shapes. There was also a man on the front page. She was only just asking what it said when the boy pulled the paper rather rudely from her hands, but when she turned, she only saw a terrible stricken expression on his face. His mouth was slack, and his blue eyes were glazed with grief and terror. He wasn’t the same after that day, much to her sorrow.

‘He is so much like you Javier’ she said in her mother tongue to the wind and waves. ‘He feels all the wind in the world and captures it, just to let it blow him away. He isn’t letting me catch him either, just like you’ as she spoke, she pulled out a handkerchief she had embroidered and held it under her nose. She stood motionless for a while and remembered. If she remembered enough it may just bring everyone back to her. After another moment she sighed and held her fist to the wind, just as she was about to release the cloth, she heard something and stopped herself. There in the distance on the shore a tall man was stumbling in the surf. He was too far away to see much of, but Gran Gran could tell by the way he stumbled and how he looked around like a nervous cat that he was very, very confused.

‘Ah, a new one’ she nodded while placing the basket on the ground. She began her descent down to the beach using long and low steps cut into the cliff. The coarse rock made for an excellent grip and despite her age, in this new place she only gets tired if she hasn’t rested in a long while. The man was coming closer and was about 100 meters away when he finally spotted her. He looked at her, gaped a bit and then rushed up immediately taking her by surprise with his swiftness and size.

Gran Gran is a woman who grew up in a large and raucous family and there is plenty of things you learn in said family. Some is knowing where the babies and children are always, others is knowing the little quarrels between uncles and keeping them separate. Finally, and most importantly was quickly seeing a stranger and knowing their salt. This man ran up and she noticed a few things. He was quite handsome. With strong shoulders heaving with each breath, thick dark hair that was greying at the temples and was being tossed by the wind. His eyes wild with life and adamant authority were a bright silver with a dark ring on the outside. But he wasn’t young by any means, by the silver in his hair and the lines of his eyes this man wasn’t a youth._ But that is good _she thought _with age comes wisdom_.

‘Where am I?’ the man asked, his voice a heavy grumble but Gran Gran recognised the accent, it matched the vegetable vendor. ‘What is this place? Who are you?’ he demanded.

‘You are dead’ she answered calmly. ‘This is the afterlife.’

The man froze and stumbled a bit more, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘What…I’m not…I was just in bed…’ he stumbled again, and Gran Gran looked at his wet shoes and trousers.

‘Ah poor dear, the least they could’ve done was wake you up somewhere seemly’ she gently took his arm and began to pull him towards the stairs. ‘Here, come with Gran Gran.’

The man went with her, but in a rather aggressive manner. She watched the confusion melt from his face and a furious determination settle on his brows, though what he thought of she could not guess. ‘You’re not Soviet’ he stated.

‘And you’re not Mexican’ Gran Gran replied and pat his hand. ‘But don’t worry, I forgive you.’ He only snorted in response, after a few minutes of agitated silence soon they were at the top of the cliff again.

‘Who’s here? Is there anyone I know here?’ he asked as Gran Gran collected her bag filled with produce.

‘How should I know? I’m dead just like you’ she replied and turned back to the tall man. He sighed and his face had the drawn look of mild despair that she found didn’t suit his face.

‘I always thought you would find your loved ones in death’ he said softly.

Pity pulled the old woman’s heart strings and she took his arm in hers. ‘So did I child, but you still might do so. Tell me young man. What’s your name?’

‘My name is Boris Shcherbina, deputy chairman of the ex-Soviet council’ he said with glowing pride, but Gran Gran just stared at him. _“Borja…. It’s Borja” _she heard Valery say in her mind. Gran Gran stared at Boris, she almost couldn’t see the tired and sick old man looking out of the newsprint. But only almost, his eyes were still sad she decided.

‘Oh…’ she whispered. ‘Do you know…’she trailed off. Why she couldn’t finish her question, she didn’t know but there was a flash of hope in Boris’s eyes.

‘Do I know who?’ asked Boris, but Gran Gran remembered the looks some Soviets gave Valery and did not say his name.

‘Doesn’t matter, come now young Boris. Let’s go for a walk.’ She took his arm and slowly walked with him back towards the distant houses. Boris went silently but with 1000 questions burning in his mind.

* * *

Valery.

Valery’s hands toiled in the soil of his garden at the very back corner, a beast of a bramble had sprawled, with meters of thorny tendrils and with roots sunk deep into the dark earth. ‘Shit’ he muttered as he tried and failed to hack at one of the many trunks with his little hatchet. It was as tough as iron and sharp as anything. Valery looked at it with a sigh and then his filthy hands. These were scholar’s hands, they did not belong in soil and wood. Valery looked at the weed again and pushed up his dark black long-sleeves and gripped the mini-axe more tightly. It wouldn’t do to ruin a brand-new shirt with dirt, but as he looked at it and the hatchet the memories came back.

_ Not long before… _

_‘Ah hello?’ Valery knocked on the door frame of the local general store. A man, most likely Russian briefly looked up from the book that we was reading, before looking down and ignoring him. ‘Ah…’ Valery shifted his feet awkwardly. ‘I heard you have work shirts? And garden supplies?’ _

_The man just grunted and pointed vaguely towards the back of the store where there was rows of wooden crates on the shelves. Flushing at his rudeness Valery quickly marched to the back of the store and hurriedly pulled out crates hoping to find what he was looking for as soon as possible. He pulled out a crate and saw a dark cotton long-sleeve with buttons at the collar, he hefted it out and inspected it. It was too large by a fraction, ragged and probably wouldn’t last long. He was just about to put it back when he felt eyes burning into his skull. He turned and saw the man looking at him. ‘How…how much is this?’ he asked. _

_The man stared and said nothing. _

_Valery pushed the crate back and held the shirt close to him. The store was deathly silent. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something metal glint in the light from a crate. His neck prickled uneasily as he turned and pulled it out. Inside was a cold iron hatchet with a shiny brown leather grip. Valery picked it up and felt a little more at ease at the solid weight. But when he turned back the man still watched, his dark eyes burning like coals. Valery froze, and felt shame at being startled into a frozen submission. He stuck his chin up and he walked with purpose to the counter._

_‘Here’ he put the objects down with some force. ‘What do you want for these?’_

_The man stared and silently closed his book, his eyes not leaving Valery’s. He leaned forward and stabbed the shirt, then he spoke. ‘Katya’ he reached and stabbed the hatchet, ‘Nina’ and finally he pointed at himself. ‘Masha’ he finished and leaned back. ‘How much was my life worth in _that_ trade?’_

_Coldness crept down Valery’s body and he was silent for a few seconds. ‘No one’ he shook his head. ‘No one was supposed to step foot on that roof.’_

_‘But I did!’ that man spat venom. ‘And you didn’t, tell me how much that costed?’_

_‘Too much’ Valery sighed. ‘But it had to be done…It had to be. Thousands more would have died- ‘_

_‘Ah yes but not you. No, you had time.’_

_‘Look at me’ Valery gestured to himself wildly. ‘Am I not dead like you?’ _

_‘You had years, you had time. I had weeks’ he shoved the items towards Valery. ‘Get out.’_

_ The Present _

Valery hacked again and again at the base of the bramble hedge with building anger that flashed red in his eyes. _“You had years, you had time” _a voice whispered in his head. In sudden and brutal violence Valery slammed the hatchet into the wood making it all but leap from his grasp. He ducked and staggered away from the flying weapon, which tumbled end over end not a foot from his face. He fell. His flailing hand gripped an old and nasty bramble vine and its long wooden teeth ripped into the meat of his palm. Blood burst from his hand.

‘Shit!’ he cursed and swore and shook his bleeding hand violently. ‘Damn you!’ he swore loudly, his face a twisted mess of anger and pain. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the hatchet lying in the leaf litter innocently, he remembered a finger gabbing it and a voice whispering “Katya”.

He swore and kicked the handle, making the tool leap and fall into messy undergrowth and dying plants. ‘Damn you, I died too. I lost too’ Valery spat to the garden. Hot blood ran down his hand, he held it close and watched the red ebb like spring from the wound and seep into his shirt. _Well it didn’t last did it?_ He thought and pushed up the sleeve and blood stained his other already filthy hand. He tried to gingerly nudge away the clumps of dirt close to the wound, but it stung too much. Valery something hot run down his face, whether it was from the pain or the aching in his heart he did not know.

‘Oh damn this’ he said softly and rubbed his throat with the good hand, not noticing the red streaks he left. _Damn everyone here, everyone but Gran Gran_, Valery thought his heart was still cold and hollow. Boris’s newsprint flashed through his head and he closed his eyes and remembered Boris when they first met. Healthy, proud and arrogant just as he should be. ‘I hope you are well. I hope you are better than this’ he said to the wind.

He turned and went to wash his hand when he heard footsteps. _Ah Babushka,_ _she will be mad_ he thought and looked at his palm. For some reason this made his heart warmer and a smile tugged at his face, but he went to hide inside. He didn’t feel like company yet, he felt like it less these days. Then he heard something odd, another set of footsteps, heavier and louder. _Oh god who is she bringing. _

‘Russian boy are you in that garden!’ her old voice hollered from the other side of the house.

‘…Maybe?’ Valery called back and shook his palm making red droplets fly. _This better not be some angry dead neighbour, _Valery thought of the store keeper. The footsteps grew louder making him more and more anxious. Just when Babushka rounded the house Valery started to babble.

‘Look this isn’t as bad as you think. I cut it on the thorns- ‘he began when his voice froze in his throat and his heart slam almost painfully. A man walked behind babushka. He was strong and tall; his hair was dark with silver and not the gray he knew. The man froze when he saw him, and his eyes widened until you could see the whites.

‘This young man woke up just now- ‘Babushka began.

‘You…It’s you’ the man said his eyes flying around his face, throat and hands.

‘I…’ Valery gasped and felt his jaw move open and close, his hands shook terribly. He remembers the last time they spoke, the last time the saw each other. Valery from the back of a car, and _him _outside with a bloody cloth in his hand. ‘I…’ Valery choked.

‘Valery’ the man said and pushed past Gran Gran. The man was suddenly in front of him and his shoulders were being grabbed, pulled and then held. ‘Valera…’ his voice was hoarse. Pain and grief made Valery’s heart pound and his throat ache, he unconsciously felt his hands grip at the back of the white shirt. Tears spilled from his eyes.

‘Boris’ Valery whispered. He felt Boris nod against his own head, his grief raw and silent. He was here, he was here in warmth and flesh, no longer just a cold piece of newsprint sitting on the coffee table. He was here and for a moment he forgot the anger and the injustice. He forgot the pain in his heart. He was here.

‘Borja…’


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello again readers!Okay look I thought I would be updating way later then this. But believe it or not this chapter here is the very first chapter I wrote! It is the chapter that birthed this story, it was actully difficult to work with, because I had to work with it again and again to flow with the previous chapters. I will not lie, I'm not entirely happy with the chapter I might even come back and edit it to be honest. 
> 
> You guys are wonderful with your feedback and kudos, I will start to reply to your comments now (before I was so excited I didn't know what to say!) If any of you want you can message me on tumblr my user name is lordfarquuuad. I'd love to talk about Chernobyl or anything, it would be great to make some friends in the community!
> 
> Enjoy reading, this chapter is longer than the rest (I hope you all like that haha)

Boris’s shirt was warm and soft under Valery’s hands. Valery’s face was pressed gently into the fabric just over his shoulder, he didn’t want to leave. The strong arms squeezed his body only to pull away from him in the next moment. _oh_… a traitorous voice whispered.

‘Christ’s sake Valery what have you done to yourself?’ Boris growled lowly and grabbed his hands. It hurt when he grabbed his hand like that, but Valery did not dare say anything, his eyes were trained on the older man’s face. 

‘You look young’ Valery said shakily.

Boris did not stop looking over his hands and picking out bits of dirt and thorn sitting in the ragged flesh. It was like he didn’t hear him, yet he was young. Never before had Valery seen such darkness in his hair. Youth had poured the night sky into his locks, what once was grey was now dark with streaks of silver scattered. His face was young too, the softness of age was lost, and only sharp cheeks and a strong jaw line remained with a scattering of lines. With such changes Valery couldn’t help but stare.

_It’s him, it’s him it’s him it’s him, _he thought. A powerful urge to just grip his long hands and beg him to stop, to just look back at Valery in silence was strong, so strong he felt his good hand reach out to still Boris’s when an old wrinkled hand gripped his wrist. 

‘Child.’ Gran Gran said with surprising softness. ‘Be still.’

Between the two of them Valery felt utterly incapacitated to wink let alone move. So he stared at Boris, who’s eyes were only on his hand which he cleaned with a soldier’s authority and routine. Gran Gran’s hand touched his neck and he was dimly aware of her cleaning off the blood there.

‘Young Boris, there is blood on your shirt’ she said.

‘I’m aware’ Boris replied. His white cotton shirt was a patchwork of messed red handprints on the sleeves and back with streaks of dirt. He reached around and fished out a white cloth from Babushka’s hand bag, where some corn rolled around and wrapped it diligently around his palm. It hurt.

‘How many years….’ Valery voice was hoarse. ‘How many years since the court?’

It was then that Boris paused, his hands finishing the last knot of the cloth. When he looked up there was little left of the surprise and amazement that Valery had first seen, it made his heart drop to his stomach. ‘Five years.’

‘Oh, so I have been gone that long-‘

‘No. You have been dead for two years, gone for three. It seems you were right all along about how long we had left’ Boris dropped his hand. That hurt more than the cut itself. It hurt more than anything.

It was silent in the garden. Only Babushka’s clucking over his hand and ruined shirt was heard. Even the birds were silent for once. Valery scrambled for something to say, anything. He wished earlier that Boris would look at him. Now he wished he would look away, or say something, _do_ something. His eyes are walls now, walls only dimly showing the thoughts ticking over in his mind. Anxiety crept up Valery’s throat and the words poured from his mouth before he could stop himself.

‘The tapes! Did the tapes work? Are the reactors gone-‘

Boris took a step back, his fists were bunched like sledge hammers and hot, raw rage burned in his eyes. He was silent for a few seconds and even Gran Gran paused her ministrations. Valery, feeling anxious and desperate he took a step forward. Boris all but exploded.

‘After all these years, after all this time, the first thing you ask of me is those damn awful reactors?!’ Boris yelled the last few words, his voice biting.

‘Are you that full of fear and loathing that even death won’t give you peace?! Tell me old woman, has this been what comrade Professor Legasov has been doing in death? Ruminating and biting his knuckles over science, not caring for the people in his life?!’ Boris yelled at Babushka. Valery’s heart only minutes ago was hot and full of emotion. Now it was hollow and barren once more with a slow ache stealing the smile from his face. 

‘No.’ Gran Gran replied, her voice cold. ‘He tends his garden, he walks an old woman to the market, he listens to her’ she picked up good Valery’s hand. ‘Only his hands tell me he was a scholar, a “scientist” she thumbed his soft flesh. ‘And even now he is tearing that away.’

Boris stared at her for a moment, before returning to Valery. His eyes were still hot with anger, and also grief. He said nothing and turned. He left the garden in a righteous fury, his feet stirring the leaf litter in his wake, his footsteps only left behind grief.

‘Oh child, I’m sorry’ Gran Gran clutched his hand. ‘I recognised him from the paper, I thought you knew him well from that-‘

‘I do…’ Valery interrupted, his voice low and gravelly. ‘I did’ he finished. _What have I done?_ He thought.

* * *

Only a handful of vague days passed since Shcherbina arrived in the strange village that Valery also existed in. Each time Valery laid eyes on the man it was like a reunion with a ghost where they would see each other, and Boris would also freeze when seeing him and search him. His eyes would glance over him, he would study his throat, his hands and lastly his face before speaking and even then, there was a haunted look lingering in their exchanges. Valery’s initial feeling at their reunion began to be poisoned by those looks, and by those final words. Yet it was beyond him to ask, to speak of this object beyond their separation and time that has ripped a rift between them. It was beyond him to approach Boris at all for a time. Still, time passed and Legasov found himself growing restless with questions and agitated at the void that was between them. Even Gran Gran’s kindness couldn’t warm the chilliness that rested in his heart.

One day as Valery read a dusty small book on his porch of soft-spoken fairy tales that appeared in his mail box one morning. His fingers were just tracing the tortured visage of Baba Yaga when he heard heavy footsteps on the gravel road and soon Boris himself was walking towards town in his purposeful ferocious way. Valery felt a smile twitch on his lips and watched him expectantly, waiting for Boris to turn and greet him despite the past, despite the void, anger and pain between them. Boris seemed to walk faster.

He blanched a bit at first and then felt a chilly tension rest on his shoulders, some foreign emotion possessed Valery and he found himself putting the book down with an echoing slap while his chair ground against the wood. _Enough’s enough_. Valery marched down his stairs and walked purposefully towards Shcherbina who seemed very interested in the low buildings growing on the horizon and avoided his inquisitive stare. ‘You know you are one of the last men I would think would avoid people’ Valery stated and evenly matched Boris’s pace.

‘Is that so?’ Boris retorted and looked at his throat, his hands and then his eyes. Valery bit his cheek and quirked a brow, _again with the looks!_ He thought. So, he stopped and waited expectantly as Boris walked a few paces and then stopped before turning with a resigned expression. ‘Valery what is it?’ he asked.

‘No, not “what is it?”, rather, “what is wrong?”’ Valery leaned forward a bit. ‘Ever since you have arrived here you seem nothing if not uncomfortable. Why is that Boris? Aren’t we better friends than this?’ he questioned with heat in his words. Boris stared at him evenly, a bit of his old steel creeping back into his eyes.

‘Let’s have a seat’ he walked to a park bench waiting in the grass on the road side and sat down. Valery met Boris’s stare patiently as he approached and sat down with the large man. Boris tugged something out of his pocket and with no lack of surprise and excitement Valery recognised the object as a cigarette tin. Shcherbina pulled a joint out with ease and then grabbed a lighter. 

Legasov watched as this man fumbled with his lighter, the gears clinked but the flame failed to emerge. ‘Here’, he took the lighter from Boris’s clumsy hand and easily flicked the flame alive. Without a thought he casually raised it to the limp cigarette until the end glowed and Boris hesitantly puffed at it, his eyes flickering from Valery’s face to his hand quickly before looking away. Heat crept up Valery’s face, _ah, _he thought _maybe it has been too long_. He remembers trying to track time here, when he first arrive, etching little chalk marks on the dry wall. But some days there would be more marks than he remembered making, others, only a handful. Two years ago, when he last spoke to Boris alive feels almost like a few weeks ago and a century all at once, but Boris lived those two years which may feel different altogether. It was a hollow and disconcerting feeling.

Valery turned away and faced the sunset where two swallows swooped and chased each other through the tall grass, his heart falling slowly to his stomach at the one of many truths to this new world. _We are not in some atomic disaster, are we?_ Maybe that’s all their bond was, a relationship of pure necessity like those in war, maybe it’s faded for him. It hurt Valery more than he expected, but he felt a shift next him and suddenly the cigarette with it’s acrid smoke was hovering in front of him. It had been awhile since Valery smoked, but he awkwardly pinched the filter, his fingers brushing against Boris’s. He quickly lifted it to his lips and hoped it was the smoke causing his face to heat.

‘You had to do more didn’t you?’ Boris muttered lowly.

‘Pardon?’ said Valery and blew smoke away. God it felt good to smoke right now.

‘Those tapes, damn you…’ Boris trailed off and pinched his upper nose. ‘You had to do more when you already did enough, too much in fact.’

‘Something had to be done, the KGB, even Gorbachev would never have fixed those reactors if no one did anything’ Valery gestured with the joint vaguely before passing it back to Boris. Boris reached over and their fingers briefly touched as he quickly took the cigarette and puffed it aggressively, almost angrily.

‘Yes, but you didn’t wait to see, did you? No’ he quickly shook his head, and ash dropped in little red flakes to the grass floor. ‘You had to damn well end it with that bloody rope’ He ripped the cigarette out and thrust it into Valery’s hand. And so, he paused, and felt his jaw gape like a fish as he stared at the man who glared and him with such hurt in his eyes and such rage. A cold rock settled in his heart. ‘But it worked Valery. It worked so bloody well that all 16 reactors have been destroyed, replaced and the entire system has fallen.’

‘Fallen?’

‘Everything is gone, our pride as a nation, the system and our country has been destroyed- ‘

‘You cannot seriously blame the fall of a corrupt and old-fashioned social system on me, can you?!’ Valery stood up. ‘I did what I had to do to save lives Boris! If not then- ‘

‘But you didn’t consider, you didn’t wait Valery!’ Boris also stood, his eye blazed with anger and pain. ‘If you had waited a week longer, a month longer then it could’ve been enough time for things to change!’

‘But what would change Boris?!’ Valery all but yelled. ‘I had no time left, maybe a year, one horrible year and a handful of months at best, no family and no friends who needed me. Everything about me, my entire identity was just gone!’ Valery’s hands were trembling, so he gripped them so hard his nails left bight white marks into the pink flesh. His wound stung with the pain but he ignored it and the cigarette was crumpled to ruin in his fist. ‘What could have changed anything? Who could have?’

But instead of an answer, what Valery got was the Ukrainian looming over him, with grief and hurt rupturing in a chilling fury. ‘Everything could have changed Valera! Your sentencing, your health, your life. Everything’ he hissed he then turn abruptly and stormed off into the house down the road. Valery’s own anger stewed for minutes as he glared at the door, before giving way to confusion and finally unease, how anything could have changed still evaded him, but it scared him to know why. He shook the ruined cigarette from his hand and quickly walked into his own house to think and cower at his thoughts.

* * *

The relatively timeless days flowed into nights and the argument replayed in Valery’s mind every time he was buried his hands into the garden’s soil. The anger in Boris’s shouts made his hands slip when peeling potatoes, the blood turning the vegetable’s flesh into a pasty orange. The hurt in his eyes made Valery re-read a books passage repeatedly while he glanced over often at Boris’s house in the quaint little village. Whether to approach or not was an unceasing argument that wared in his heart. For some time, Valery did not see Boris, but he could sometimes hear his footsteps if the man happened to pass by his own house or he could sometimes smell food burning when he tried and failed to cook. If the neighbours noticed such a change nothing had been said, yet babushka next door would often shoot Valery pointed looks and make not so subtle comments before glancing back at Boris’s house.

Valery tossed some garden clippers in his hands casually while peering at the mangled heap of thorns and red petals one may call a rose bush in front of him. _Such a mess_ he thought and tutted, ‘wish I had payed more attention to Nan’s garden…’ he muttered and plucked at the sturdy leaves ‘I might then have some idea of what to do with you.’ Yet the only things that came to mind was ripping the damn thing out and perhaps giving a few heads Gran Gran next door. He grasped at a roses head tried to snip the thorny stem a few hand-spans down but had as much use as a wet piece of paper trying to cleave stone in two. Cursing under his breath he went to shank it with renewed vigour when there was a sudden noise behind him.

‘If you are going to get rid of those, you need to pull them out.’

Valery swore with a jump and yanked his hand up allowing some of the thorns to bite into the barely healed meat of his soft hands and paint the pink skin with drops of red. ‘Shit!’ turning Valery shook his hand out and meet Boris’s eyes with a brow raised, ‘Well if you are going to just appear out of the blue at least give me some damn well notice!’

Boris also raised and brow and looked at him for a few seconds before sighing and then nodding in the direction of Valery’s veranda. A queer feeling rose in his chest, apprehensively Valery shook out his hand once more before walking quickly to the edge of the space and sat. Boris followed and soon he too was sitting close. Silence stretched between themselves and Valery often felt his gaze dancing between his fidgeting feet and Boris’s hands, it was when it became too unbearable that Boris spoke.

‘You died slowly you know that?’ Valery recoiled but Boris continued. ‘When you hung yourself. The rope was too short and the drop not deep enough, you suffocated instead of your spine snapping’ Boris looked at him evenly. Embarrassment flushed Valery’s chest and he felt his ears burn, he could not name why he felt so, but he did.

‘Is that why you are here, is that why you are upset? Because I did a pathetic job at dying?’ Valery felt his hoarse laugh rip through his lungs. ‘Yes, because I’m sure late stage cancer would have been so much easier. I will reconsider next time’ Valery looked and the setting sun, _if there is ever a next time_. It was when Boris was quiet for too long that Valery looked and saw an overwhelming amount of grief fresh in his steel gray eyes.

‘Charkov called.’ Boris nearly whispered and Valery flinched at the name. ‘Charkov called, and he asked me to meet him at Hospital Number 4 in Moscow. I went, and I found myself inside of a morgue Valera. I had to look at you, and when he was satisfied that I had seen everything including the rope that they left around your neck, your face all bruised, I was led out and asked questions. “Was I in contact with you before you died? Did I help you distribute the tapes? Was I aware that you were making those tapes?”’ Boris trailed off and looked away with a sigh and then looked back. ‘If I was honest, I should’ve said “I’m not surprised you killed yourself” yet all I could think of is what you said in that courtroom. “What is the cost of lies?” and then I knew that those lies cost too much.’

Some of the cloudiness left Boris’s eyes but not the pain, which mirrored Valery’s in a sober way. ‘You weren’t alone Valera, you never where’ Boris pulled out his pocket tin of cigarettes and rubbed his thumb across it like one would an eraser to stubborn letters. ‘Every damn state meeting, every single conference or award ceremony we had, I tried to bring your name the honour it deserved. If it was only me or any other bureaucrat in that hell thousands more would’ve died, but no, so many people are alive because of you’ Boris finished and stared at Valery evenly. ‘You didn’t deserve that fate you were given, there was other ways so many other ways that my largest regret is letting Khomyuk talk you into telling the truth.’

‘I’m sorry’ Valery breathed. ‘I am so sorry.’

They were silent for a time, and chewed on their respective grief, with hot eyes Valery turned to stare at the sky as it melted from burnt orange to a colder purple, _but it was the only way this could’ve worked_, sighing, he turned again but close to the larger man. ‘I don’t regret that or anything, I’ve made my peace over the years’ he said and against his better judgment he gripped Boris’s shoulder. ‘That was the only way the world was guaranteed to know the truth and they needed to know it. It was my last chance, it was not Khomyuk’s fault, she just saw what needed to be done long before us.’ He felt Boris’s strong shoulders slump under his hand. ‘You did your best, we all did our best’.

‘Ah but it wasn’t enough Valera’ Boris sighed and looked at Valery sombrely. With surprising gentleness, he reached over and adjusted the scientist’s glasses on his nose before laying his hand on his back. ‘And despite the deaths, I almost regret that you were the best of us. The best man for he job.’

Valery was silent, his hand pat Boris’s almost shyly before removing it to clutch awkwardly at his own hands. Boris’s hand stayed on his back, an encouraging yet sombre weight, before it pulled away only to flick open his tin of cigarettes. Looking at them, Legasov felt a pinch of guilt at the crumpled one he destroyed before, those blissful little tubes of cancer were a rare treat in this new place. Boris lit one with relative ease this time, his great chest rising as the bright embers burned away at the tobacco, he sighed once more and then passed it again to Valery, rebooting the casual exchange. So, the two sat and watched the stars wake up in their glory and ride across the horizon, Valery passed the cigarette back to Boris and Boris back to Valery, their fingers briefly touching each time.

‘Borja…’ Valery puffed at the smoke and saw Boris adjust himself quickly. ‘All of this’ he gestured to himself and then the sunset before them, ‘it was never to hurt anyone, not one person.’

Boris watched him intently before reaching over and taking the smoke. ‘I know, Valera’ he breathed, and smoke pooled around his head, ‘I know.’

Valery felt a warm glow as the two shared the smoke and the stars. Sadness and perhaps even grief still clouded his eyes and there was a little twist at the corner of his lips. The cigarette was passed again, and their hands touched once more a little longer than absolutely necessary. ‘We did our best’ Valery said. As he spoke, he watched Boris lean back, his head tilted up and the smoke a bright little beacon drawing the eye. He was a silhouette in the sunset, dark brooding and still as a statue. The statue breathed and smoke curled around his face while the setting sunlight caught his eyes. Valery’s breath caught in his throat gently. They were pure silver in that moment. Silver like mercury under a lab light, silver like the moon through a lens. Uncut and untarnished silver straight from the rock it was hewn from. He was beautiful in that moment.

_I missed you _Valery thought. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi readers! So most notes will be at the bottom so I can actually talk about the chapter.
> 
> Now I'm just going to throw this chapter to the wild and run away haha....I hope you all like it :)

So their little exchanges would continue. Every now and then the two men would spend time with each other, often sharing some of Boris’s dwindling cigarettes or simply chatting. It was so unfamiliar for Valery. In life they were forced to be around each other that in death it gave him a weird feeling knowing Boris was around yet not with him. But he couldn’t help feeling like he was to blame. Despite parting in each other’s good graces that one day, Valery is very aware Boris never actually said he forgave him. He still felt like he had little choice in the matter of killing himself, but he decided on not bringing this up. He also tried putting himself in Boris’s shoes, being forced to look at a friend’s body as a way of being told they are dead, and it was…Nigh on impossible. He had few friends in life, those he had disappeared like smoke after the trial, he tried to image it was himself and Boris’s positions swapped and it hurt, but he could also never see Boris Killing himself. The man was too proud to seek the coward’s way out.

Valery sat on the steps to his garden, his hands clasped and knee bouncing up and down rapidly while Gran Gran bumbled around inspecting leaves and other bits and pieces of plant business.

‘…Valery? Valery?!’ Gran Gran called.

‘Hmm, what?’ Valery looked up, all startled and flustered with red hair flopping in his face.

‘Pish’ Gran Gran muttered and cuffed him around the ears. ‘You should listen when your elders speak!’

‘Sorry, sorry I was just… thinking’ Valery replied lamely.

‘Thinking about that man, aren’t you?’

Valery’s face burned and he looked at his shoes, there is no other man but _him_. ‘Why would you think that?’

‘Because you’ve been sighing to the wind all day and if you’re not looking at your feet you are staring off towards his house!’ she chided and smacked his shoulder. ‘If you want to speak to him so badly go over there!’

‘I can’t just do that! It would be…unreasonable’ Valery finished feeling more and more flustered.

‘Oh that’s the largest pile of shit I’ve heard!’

Valery was shocked at the vulgar language coming from this lovely Babushka’s mouth.

‘No it’s not!’

‘He comes here!

‘Not often!’ Valery gestured wildly and stood up. ‘And he comes to me, not the other way around!’

‘Why is that?!’

‘Because…. because!’ Valery gestured wildly like some scarecrow in the wind. ‘I made a mistake! A big one, an un-avoidable one but a necessary mistake. And he is upset with me because of it!’

‘It can’t be a mistake if it was necessary’ Gran Gran replied hands on hips, ‘he should know that.’

‘It’s not like that’ Valery sighed. ‘I don’t blame him, what I did I had to do. But it’s messy. Messy and difficult and I did not consider him at that moment.’

‘What did you do child?’

Valery paused and considered his answer. After a moment he turned to babushka, ‘It’s complicated, unpleasant and filled with Soviet Politics’ was all he said. _Not a lie, not the truth _he thought.

‘Pah’ Gran Gran said.

‘I ruined this Gran Gran’ Valery said. ‘We hadn’t spoken in years before I died’, _we couldn’t speak _he thought. ‘I didn’t… I don’t know what I could’ve done otherwise’, he finished, and his hands fell to his sides.

Babushka considered him for a moment. Her honey coloured eyes staring at him without blinking for a while, it was quite eerie. ‘You’re both Russian, yes?’ she asked rather suddenly.

‘Wha- ‘Valery started, taken aback. ‘Well no… I’m Russian he is Ukrainian.’

‘Is there a difference?’

‘…Not particularly’ Valery replied with some hesitation. _Don’t let a Ukrainian hear that_.

‘Good’ Gran Gran hiked up her skirts and began to walk away. ‘Don’t you move!’

‘Where are you going?!’ Valery called but he was ignored. She wandered off and Valery was left with the fallen leaves swirling around his feet. Not knowing what to do he glanced at his still healing palm. The wound was still red and puffy, but the skin had healed over. It would scar. Valery’s first true scar, he didn’t count the shallow acne ones on his face.

Valery thought again back to when he saw Boris again, after years and years. He hugged him. He was warm and comforting and oh so near, and Boris is larger than Valery, it showed when his face could press easily into the crook of neck and shoulder. He marked him with blood, when Boris left, he saw the bloody hand prints staining his white shirt. Valery looked at his healing hand and clenched it. It hurt like a burn and he pressed it into the loamy soil at his feet, there was dirt beneath his nails, but it wasn’t enough. _I stained him_ was all Valery thought. The concept seemed so vulgar for him to lay bloody hands on the pristine cloth, yet as a newly born dead man he had lost his courtesies of a lifetime. Or so it seemed.

‘I should not have done that’ Valery spoke softly to the ground. That is not who Boris is, with his pristine suits, clean clear skin and properly groomed hair. If Valery were to stain him it would be with the scent of cigarettes and the taste of vodka. The blood on his shirt looked like the colour of Valery’s hair. It went beyond a simple stain but a marking of sorts. Valery bit his lip and pulled his hands up. _Everything is so confusing_ he thought, _this isn’t like last time, this isn’t normal. I don’t know how to… interact with him_ Valery remembered their few encounters after they shared those words and cigarette on the park bench. A strange anxiety seemed to follow Valery when he thought of Boris, yet he could not stop thinking of him. Foot steps crunched on the leaves behind him and he stood up quickly towards the person.

‘Here is the thing, yes!’ Gran Gran bumbled over and brandished a large clear bottle above her head.

‘Gran Gran what is tha- ‘Valery cut short and stared at the bottle like it was a piece of Francium dropped in water. ‘Where did you get that!’ he gasped.

‘Came in mail box!’ Babushka said proudly and passed the bottle to Valery. ‘Would’ve wanted a nice red wine or even Tequila, don’t know how to drink this, this- ‘

‘Vodka’ Valery breathed. Any alcohol in this place is non-existent, this was like finding a diamond tumbling in the ocean’s waves. ‘Oh Babushka, are you…’ Valery trailed off and looked at the bottle longingly.

‘Pah, never liked the stuff. Don’t know how you Soviets like this paint stripper, take it, take it. But!’ Gran Gran held up a stern finger her eyes blazing fiercely. ‘You ever get a nice red or any tequila you come straight to me, you got that!’

‘Of course, of course!’ Valery breathed and gingerly held the bottle in his dirty hands.

‘Oh and if you are going to drink wash your hands! Filthy Russian boy….’ Gran Gran muttered and walked away waving.

Valery sighed and placed the bottle reverently on the ground before picking up the hose and rinsing his hands. He thought of Boris’s house just down the road, he has never been there but knows exactly where it is. Valery ran to the kitchen excitedly and grabbed two chipped mugs (only ones he had) and with some nerves left his house. It wasn’t far, his house, only a few minutes’ walk, yet the walk felt uncannily fast. Valery’s hand sweated and the mugs clinked against each other like two conspirators. In front of him was Boris’s aframe home, it was no different to Valery’s except the wood was warmer like chestnut timber. He walked over and adjusted the collar of his shirt. He has never done this.

‘Alright’ Valery sighed and rolled his shoulders, he clenched the vodka bottle’s neck and trudged up the stairs. He raised the bottle, the heavy glass knocked loudly against the warm door.

Silence.

Valery coughed and knocked again, it echoed and was his only reply.

‘Oh dammit’ Valery sighs and tilts his head to the sky. He briefly considers cracking the bottle to see if vaguely hearing the twisting plastic will make Boris leap out of the house like a cat after some tasty rodent. Agitated Valery scuffs his shoes against the ground and knocks again.

‘Oh for Christ sake’ Valery tilts his head up, his nerve getting the best of him. ‘Boris!’ he called to the sky. If a neighbour was looking out the window, he would no doubt look like a nutter. Valery marched down the stairs, not wanting to look foolish any longer. He clearly wasn’t home. ‘Of all the days…’ Valery sighs and tweaks his glasses. He looks at his hands, one holding a bottle and mugs the other, scared and curled slightly. He flexed his injured hand and turned around. He walks to the house and then around it. There was no garden but a large empty space and to his surprise and little dirt path winding through the forest the hugged his house.

It looked beautiful and enticing, to just walk into the wilderness and breathe the sweet air. There was no one home, no need to ask for permission. So Valery steeped under the tree’s dappled eves and finally allowed himself to smile. He tilted his head up and smiled at the light filtering through the thick green leaves, he smiled at the twigs snapping underfoot, he smiled at the birds singing in the trees. He almost wished he was a biologist so he would know their names. At last he admired the forest- no he admired the woods, it was no longer a forest, no longer organized and groomed. It was rugged. Trees and branches were fallen, and life grew over them, filling the nooks and crannies. There was sheets of sheer cobwebs capturing the water in the air and undergrowth reaching for the space above.

His soul and brain may belong in the lab or the lecture hall or the library. But Valery’s heart belonged to the wild. The bold and silent wild. While he had walked the trees had grown clustered and dense, yet the path lead him on a slow incline and light began to filter between the trunks. Something thundered in the distance and salt mixed with the woodlands smell. Valery walked to the path’s end and stepped between two large gnarled oaks. _Oh my_ he thought. The woods ended at the cliffs that stood tall over the sea. It was wonderful, the trees only hiding a few meters away from the grassy edge.

Valery breathed and clenched his hand making the bottle clink against the mugs almost happily. He stood there and breathed for a moment, _maybe it would be nice to just sit and drink_ he looked at he cups and began to sit when a dark movement to his right drew his eyes. Valery paused and froze. Maybe they were more alike than he thought.

Boris sat on the very edge of the cliff, staring and smoking off into the distance. He hadn’t noticed Valery yet. His hair, though flicked with the wind looked dishevelled, his shirt loose and half tucked into his pants. If this was any other man this would be nothing remarkable. But this is Boris. Pristine and elegant Boris never looked so untidy before, nor his wide shoulders or strong back slumped. Valery’s good mood became shadowed in concern.

‘Boris’ Valery said. He didn’t hear him, so Valery stepped forward until he was only a few meters away. ‘Boris’ he said again.

Boris started and whirled around quickly his cigarette drooping between his fingers.

‘Shit’ Boris swore and hastily stood up. ‘Don’t you know better than to surprise a man on a cliff?’

‘Sorry’ Valery stepped closer and tried a smile. ‘But seeming as we are already dead…Doesn’t really seem to matter does it?’

Boris frowned at that, ‘We both know you can still be hurt’ he nodded to his hands and upon seeing him his eyebrows shot up. ‘Is that vodka?’

‘Ah yes’ Valery held the bottle up to the sunlight. ‘It would seem so, I haven’t opened it, thought you would like a taste of the finer stuff but if you would rather be mad at me…’ Valery shrugged and made to turn around.

‘Valera!’ Boris reprimanded.

Valery smiled a bit at his name and turned around. He said nothing and sat down where Boris was and began to crack the bottle. Boris hurriedly sat down next to him only a few handspan apart and flicked is cigarette to the waves below.

‘How did you get that? The stores?’ Boris asked.

‘No’ Valery shook his head and poured two decent helpings of the liquid into the mugs. ‘Babush- Gran Gran got this in her mail. She doesn’t like it so gave it to me.’

‘I’ll be sure to thank her properly’

‘The thanks she will appreciate is a bottle of nice reed wine if you happen to get it’ Valery passed a mug to Boris. As he handed it over, he looked keenly at his face, it was an expression he knew all too well.

‘I’ll remember that’ Boris said and drained the mug in one gulp. Valery did the same and was delighted by the harsh liquid that all but cauterized his throat. ‘Ah’ Boris sighed with appreciation. ‘Tastes like a tom cats fermented piss’ he held the mug up and finally a smile quirked his lips. ‘Perfect.’

Valery laughed, a soft warm noise that was muffled by the waves and wind and Boris laughed with him. They refilled and drank for a moment in silence, then Boris turned and looked at him cryptically.

‘How did you get out here?’

‘Went to your house and no one answered the door, so…’ Valery gestured vaguely with a hint of embarrassment. ‘I walked to the back in case you were there, and I saw that trail. Was bored so I decided to follow it…’ Valery trailed off awkwardly.

‘Ha’ Boris chuffed. ‘That is a little bit rude. Then again you weren’t exactly polite in life.’

‘Thought you would like a taste of this?’ Valery quirked an eyebrow.

‘And you’re right’ Boris knocked back the dregs and poured himself another splash of Vodka.

‘Besides’ Valery began and felt his face flushed. ‘I hadn’t seen you in a while, thought you’d like the company.’

‘Hmm, you must be rubbing off on me if you are beginning to worry about me being alone.’

‘That’s a bit unfair’ Valery frowned.

‘Do you know yourself?’ Boris smiled easily. ‘Wouldn’t call you a socialite.’

‘Yes but that’s because most people are hardly interesting to talk to.’

‘I should consider myself flattered then’ Boris said mockingly and raised his mug.

‘Be serious Boris’ Valery turned towards the man. ‘Why are you so- ‘

‘So what Valera?’ He said warningly. ‘Careful now, careful.’

‘Unhappy’ Valery finished. ‘Why are you so unhappy?’

Boris paused and swished his mug around, he suddenly picked up the vodka and poured an obnoxious amount into Valery’s mug. ‘Drink’ he ordered.

Valery drunk and a buzz began to creep up his swaying legs.

Boris sighed and looked up into the sky. ‘When you died, did you wake up feeling like everything you accomplished in life was worthless?’

‘No’ Valery said honestly. ‘I did everything in my power to make sure I did the most. Until my last breath.’

‘Oh how very poetic Valera, I wish all deaths could be so meaningful’ Boris scoffed.

‘I died in a bed, sick with nurses surrounding me. My daughter was traveling to visit. I never saw her’ Boris drunk heavily. ‘And all while the Soviet Union collapsed around me. Do you know how painful it is to watch something you’ve helped build and maintain fall to pieces around you? Yet you are too weak to help or stop anything? For years I walked the Kremlin with pride thinking everything I was doing was going to last for years hell perhaps hundred of years to come! What a waste of my time what a waste of any ones!’ Boris was yelling at the end and his fists were grasping the mug fiercely. ‘Do you know who my father was Valera?’ he turned to Valery suddenly. ‘He was a rail way builder; my mother was a milk maid. And I watched them be miserable and poor, so I always told myself “you will bring honour to the name Shcherbina, you will be a career man that can actually do something and make a difference!”, do you want to know all I did Valera?! All I did was find some sand and Boron, all I did was find a lunar rover. Pah!’ Boris spat. ‘At least a railway man’s work still works, at least a milk maid never failed her job.’ Boris cursed suddenly and threw his mug off the cliff.

_Ahh dammit,_ Valery watched the mug tumble end over end. _I need to get a new mug._

‘Boris’ Valery turned and dropped a hand on his shoulder. ‘Boris stop, you need to stop this.’

‘Why? You know it’s true.’

‘Not to me’ gripped his shoulder tightly, Boris still faced him, so he put down his mug, dinking all but forgotten and grabbed his other shoulder too. Initiating so much physical contact made Valery flush but maybe it was the alcohol. ‘Never to me’ Valery said and shoved him gently. Boris reached up and grasped Valery’s forearms, Boris was always larger than Valery, yet Valery couldn’t help but be mildly surprised by the size of his hands. Wrath burned in Boris’s eyes blindly, it wasn’t for Valery not at all, but it was an intimidating gaze. He swallowed, they were very close.

‘You are still upset with me, aren’t you?’ Valery said softly, the wind buffeting his hair.

‘Yes’ Boris hissed.

Valery nodded and removed his hand only to take his glasses off and put it back.

‘At least you gave yourself a purposeful death.’

‘Are you kidding? It sounds like a dream to be taken care of by lovely nurses, my want and need tended to at every moment’ Valery scoffed.

‘Don’t mock me!’

‘I’m not’ Valery smiled, maybe it was the vodka or maybe it was the long years of loneliness, but Valery very nearly leaned into him at that moment. He stopped himself at the last moment, but the yearning still gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Flushing a bit more, Valery picked up his mug and poured some vodka into it. ‘Here’ Valery passed it to Boris, who slowly released his forearms. ‘Don’t throw this one please.’

The two men turned away from each other, Valery drank out of the bottle and refilled Boris’s every now and then. They were silent for a time, and despite how unusual time here passes, the moon began to rise and paint the world in silver and blue.

‘I thought when you died you are reunited with your loved ones’ Boris said softly.

‘We still might’ Valery nodded and swigged the bottle, his head felt warm and heavy and each movement sent his vision spinning. Especially without his glasses. ‘Though I’m not too sure about myself’ Valery chuffed with little humour.

‘Why is that?’

‘Mother died when I was very young, a baby. Only had my father, and my father…’ he shook his head. He didn’t want to think about his father. ‘Suffice to say we went separate ways.’

‘Who was you father?’

‘Believe it or not, he was a career party man’ Valery laughed and took another swig. He could no longer taste the burn and felt dizzy all over.

‘Ha!’ Boris laughed, a smile finally spreading on his face. ‘We could’ve gotten along!’

‘Oh no you would hate him’ Valery laughed. ‘He was very brash and didn’t give a fig about other people.’

‘It is surprising how you two are related then’ Boris said warmly. The warmth stunned Valery and he turned to look at Boris. As he turned some strange expression passed over Boris’s face. His eyes went wide and glossy while his head tilted to the left and openly stared at Valery.

Valery’s heart seized for a moment. He remembered Boris sitting on his veranda, smoke drifting around his face and his eyes pure silver, beautiful. Valery suddenly wondered what he looked like here, in the moonlight, and maybe Boris is looking at him like he looked at Boris. Valery’s heart pounded like a drum and his head span round and round making him tilt towards the cliff face.

‘Christ!’ he heard Boris swear and suddenly his shoulder were being grabbed and yanked back. ‘You’re already dead, don’t throw yourself off a bloody cliff!’ Boris reprimanded but not unkindly.

‘Maybe drinking on a cliff face wasn’t the most…intelligent move’ Valery said, his voice slurring.

‘Come on then!’ Boris stood up and teetered a bit. He shook his head and clapped his face a few times. ‘Get up and bring that!’ he pointed to vodka bottle. Valery stood and immediately nearly feel, but Boris grabbed him by the shoulder and slung a large arm over him. His face was near, Valery realised, and his face burned slightly. ‘Obviously shouldn’t compare you to your father if it means you will throw yourself off a cliff!’ Boris muttered and Valery couldn’t tell if it was the wind or his breath stirring his hair.

Valery laughed and he felt Boris pull him closer making Valery grab his shoulder less they fall. They were soon walking, and the night sky changed to the dark leaves and branches of woods around them.

‘Wait my glasses- ‘Valery made to turn back but Boris held him in place.

‘We will get them tomorrow.’

‘I can hardly see without them. What if I trip and break my neck?’

‘Ha’ Boris laughed, and his chest rumbled against Valery’s side. ‘Do you really think I would let you fall?’

‘No’ Valery said softly, and he allowed himself in a moment of bravery to rest his head atop Boris’s shoulder. ‘No you wouldn’t.’

Boris paused for a moment at the sudden contact and Valery felt his face burn into his shirt. _Maybe this is too much, too intimate- _but his thoughts were cut off when he felt a weight rest gently on his head. ‘I think you are underestimating how drunk I am’ He said softly, his jaw working against Valery’s head.

‘I don’t think so’ Valery replied. The closeness reminded him of the garden, of Boris holding him and then immediately cleaning his hand. The same hand gripping his shoulder. They walked and a nightingale sang in the distance, low and sweet it was one of the few birds Valery knew well. Valery closed his eyes and listened to the singing and breathed deeply yet subtly. He smelled of salt and leaves and even more freshly vodka and cigarettes. _Stained by vodka and cigarettes_ Valery thought and his smile graced his lips. It was only when the muffled foot falls on dirt turned into the crunch of grass did Valery open his eyes and found himself looking at the back of Boris’s house.

‘I love that spot back there’ Boris muttered softly and lead him up the stairs to the back door.

‘I’m sorry I invited myself back there.’ Valery said against his shoulder.

‘No’ Boris said and detangled himself from Valery. ‘You are welcome there, always.’ Valery stared at the back of his head, he was just close enough to see. Boris opened the door and grabbed Valery’s arm to pull him in. He found himself being dragged to the living room, Boris was about to push him to the seat when he stopped and held Valery in place. ‘I’m glad…that out of everyone, you are here Valera’ he said softly. He then gently reached and held the back of Valery’s head his fingers almost, just almost running through his hair. Valery’s heart was in his mouth, yet he didn’t dare move as Boris leaned in and pressed his forehead to Valery’s. _It’s just the vodka _Valery thought almost hysterically. _He was always more or less affectionate this is just the vodka_, though his forehead burned where Boris pressed his. And deep down a forbidden wish stabbed at his heart, that maybe this was something more than that. Something “other” that wasn’t for every drinking partner and was just for him. His hands itched to reach up and hold Boris back, but fear and pure shock made any movement impossible. 

Boris sighed after a few moments and then he froze like a startled deer suddenly, and all but shoved Valery where he was to a low leather couch. The thick silence was broken like beautiful church glass. ‘You are not walking home like that’ Boris muttered, and Valery watched his vague outline look away from Valery. Boris’s hands were clenching, and his feet shifted uncomfortably. 

_No, no, no_ Valery thought. ‘Borja- ‘Valery reached forward but Boris stepped away.

‘Just go to sleep!’ Boris stepped away further. He spun around like an angry bull and marched up the stairs to the second landing, his footsteps echoing in the old house.

A block of ice sat in his stomach and Valery hands grabbed at his face and hair, where Boris’s own hands were not a moment before. _What the bloody hell just happened?!_ _Was this my fault? did I do something?! _ Valery thought and fisted his hair, his breath coming hard and fast. He could still feel the phantom of Boris’s head against his, his arms across his shoulder. It scared him how much he could easily fall into that warmth that Boris so easily possessed. His fingers touched his forehead and pressed there as he leaned back against the leather sofa, it wouldn’t do to walk home. He cannot even see let alone get back safely, but all Valery wanted to do was flee in that moment.

The vodka still sat at his feet, with his one remaining mug. The mug that Boris used, that he sipped from- _Stop it! _Valery thought and grabbed the bottle. He removed the cork with ease and drank fast and heavily, his throat bobbing with each gulp. ‘Dammit! Damn it all!’ Valery whispered harshly and put the bottle loudly on the coffee table before sagging back into the couch.

‘What the fuck is happening?!’ he muttered into his hands. _What is happening Boris?! _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say slow burn guys haha, I hope you liked this chapter it took me a very long time to write because I'm like: "How much affection would Boris normally show, and how much would be considered more than friendly affection?", "Is Valery in touch with his feelings? Would he act this way and be this nervous?".
> 
> As you can tell I'm trying to keep these two as in character as possible but actually make it romantic. It is very difficult. But you know look at that... affection :)
> 
> Look forward to the next chapter guys, see you then!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Readers! Again main notes are at the bottom of the chapter. Valery has quite the chapter here, there is some violence in it so you have been warned (don't worry guys, it is not Boris this isn't one of those fanfics). Enjoy this and please leave reviews!

The sun was high and unforgiving with its heat and gaze. It filtered through the curtains and stabbed at Valery’s thin pink eyelids with little angry knives forcing him to scrunch up and bury himself further into the warm smelling leather. Valery’s head throbbed and it throbbed with a passion of two anxious lovers, a headache beating cruelly behind his eyes. ‘Oh hell…’ Valery swore and winced at the gross fuzziness that coated his mouth. _God damn, I haven’t been hungover in years, _Valery thought. Even when he was alive, he couldn’t drink himself to death due to the cancer. After many minutes of frowning into the couch, Valery slowly rolled his neck and sat up making his spine crunch in a relief.

‘Ah’ Valery sighed and further twisted to-and-fro making his back pop. He opened his eyes again blearily and rubbed at them, but it did hardly anything to clear them. Muttering Valery blindly moved his hands around until they nudged against the coffee table, but as he reached up his hands collided with something and it crashed down. Cold water splashed against Valery’s socked feet and he flinched in surprise. ‘Oh dear’ he sighed and quickly shuffled his hands around more until they felt a familiar shape.

Valery plucked his glasses and brought them close to his face inspecting for damage and quickly slipped them on his face. He was met with a scene of spilled water and a chipped glass. It made his heart stop.

The newsprint that was delivered to him so long ago was not on his coffee table in its rightful spot. There was no scattering of collected strange books littering the room that he idly read. There was no outdoor shoes by the back door. And he knew, he knew by the mostly drained vodka bottle sitting pretty on the coffee table that he was not in his house, but he sincerely hoped he somehow made it home in a drunk stupor last night. Valery froze, his hands pressed in a steeple against his mouth and felt the cool water seep into his socks.

_Oh dear, oh no…_Valery thought and slowly looked behind him. Boris wasn’t there. _Oh thank Christ_ Valery thought and reached over for his sweater. He began to mop up the water on floor, his thoughts racing a mile a minute. First, the glasses.

_I left them by the cliff last night, but here they are on my face_, Valery touched them briefly just to reassure himself that they were there and nodded. _ I couldn’t have got them, _he thought, and he paused and fell into even greater silence as he tried to listen for his friend moving around. He couldn’t hear a thing. Valery sighed with relief and kept cleaning. Second was the glass of water.

_Boris got me my glasses and some water, yet he is not in the house. He might be back at the cliff…_ Valery shuddered at the thought of Boris coming down stairs to see him sprawled out on his couch, no doubt drooling and looking a complete mess. His face burned with embarrassment. Thirdly and finally, Valery thought of Boris and all motions of cleaning were ceased as he stared at perfectly groomed floor.

_He got my glasses and something to help _Valery thought and bit his lip in a bruising way to stop himself from thinking the words of everything else he did. He didn’t drink enough to forget. The memories came, summoned by his anxiety and curiosity. His hands holding Valery, his hands in his hair, on his shoulders, on his arms. His head against Valery’s his breath warm on his cheek. His eyes, silver and staring-

‘Stop!’ Valery hissed and twisted his sweater angrily. ‘More fool you Valery!’ he said to himself. Angrily, Valery grabbed the glass and made his way to the kitchen where he refilled it and downed the entire contents where it boiled in his stomach. Feeling nauseous was all the motivation that Valery needed to flee the house. He dropped the glass in the sink with a clank and ran for the front door where he found his shoes. Without putting them on he just grabbed them and ran outside onto the grass.

The fresh air and the sunlight did nothing to help and the great sickly mess in his stomach heaved out of his mouth and onto Boris’s pristine verge. It was disgusting. Valery’s eyes burned with sick tears and his mouth tasted of acidy bile. He stared with mortification and no little embarrassment at the brown slop staining the greenness of the garden.

‘Just kill me again’ Valery sighed and shook his head. Boris got his glasses and even gave him water and all he rewarded him with was a chipped glass and no small amount of vomit on his garden. Still, Boris wasn’t home and for that, Valery was a little grateful. He then began the shameful process of finding a large enough vessel to carry water, the search eventually leading him back into the house where he found a moderate sized bowl. Valery had to fill it twice, each time dumping it onto the sick and washing a chunk off it away. It was only when Valery practically threw the bowl back into the cupboard and slammed the door shut that he began the walk of shame back to his house. He was barely half way there when he again things went astray.

‘Russian child!’ a familiar rich voice bellowed down the street.

Valery winced at the noise and turned slowly. Babushka was at her front door, tapping her foot in some furious Morse-code. As he turned her vivid eyes glanced at him up and down from his hands holding his shoes, his wet socks and soggy sweater. ‘Good morning Gran Gran’ Valery called weakly.

‘How old are you child?! You stand there in your socks like some bush boy! Did you forget that your shoes go on your feet not your hands?!’ she shouted and waved her hand angrily.

Valery flinched again and looked around to see neighbours looking out their windows at the noise. His face burning he turned back to Gran Gran. ‘Please keep it down Gran- ‘

‘You know I’m glad you are up, that man asked me to wake you- ‘

Valery power walked over to Gran Gran as the faces in the houses began to multiply and listened all too intently. ‘Shhh!’ Valery whispered sharply.

Gran Gran stared at him incredulously. ‘Are you telling me to be quiet?!’

‘No, no’ Valery whispered his head still throbbing. ‘It’s just people’ he nodded vaguely over his shoulder. ‘They are listening’ he finished.

Gran Gran peered over his shoulder and then muttered. ‘Fine, fine come in’ she waved towards the door and Valery gratefully scampered in. As soon as he passed the door he was greeted with an amazing smell of spices, smoking wood and slow cooking meat. His sickly stomach groaned.

‘Ha, little Russian boy just visited for food!’ She took him to the kitchen and sat him down on the bench. From there she pulled out a large bowl and piled it high with rice, beans and pulled pork stew. Valery nearly wept with joy at the turn of his luck. As he began tucking in to the delicious food Gran Gran pulled up a stool next to him.

‘You know it’s strange that young Boris would ask me to get you if you weren’t up soon. Why couldn’t he wait for you?’

Valery’s spoon froze half way to his mouth, and he felt his face flush. ‘I…I- I don’t know?’ he gestured, ‘did he say anything else?’

‘No’ Gran Gran’s old face frowned. ‘I did ask why he couldn’t stay but he just walked off like some self-righteous horse, tossing his head to the breeze.’ Valery couldn’t help himself but laugh at the description as it was quite accurate, he was about to eat again when Babushka spoke. ‘You know I would’ve thought last night helped you two boys, but young Boris did not seem interested in helping you or talking to you. Why do you bother with him?’

Valery turned to her and slowly placed down his spoon. ‘He does help, and he does talk. It’s just when we were alive something terrible- ‘

‘Yes, yes I know of this…Sheernobile’ Gran Gran tried to say.

‘Chernobyl’ Valery corrected.

‘Yes that’ Gran Gran rolled her eyes. ‘Yet he is distant? From what you told me it would seem like you two were great friends. And true, just before you were seeing him very much and seemed to enjoy his company. What changed last night? He seemed to awkward this morning.’

And that was the question that scared Valery the most. To Gran Gran, it was just a little pebble of a question, one that can easily be passed to the person and information could be exchanged. Not to Valery. This question was a boulder, no it was a mountain of a question that Gran Gran just passed to him, and if he were to tell the truth, it would be like lifting a mountain from his heart. Life, time and Soviet government had buried this gargantuan truth deep into his heart and to bare this deep secret would rip it open to ruin.

‘Child?’ a warm, wrinkled hand touch his cheek gently. ‘Why do you cry?’

Valery shuddered at the hot tears running down his face. ‘I can’t tell you…’ Valery hissed, ‘not all.’

‘Then just tell me some’ Gran Gran said softly and held his face. ‘You are dear to me young man. I will not share these words with anyone.’

He felt his heart thunder in his chest and Valery squeezed his hands. The truth, so painful and deadly was knocking at his bones to be let out. And he needed to speak. Over 50 years of silence needed to be broken. He started with a small truth.

‘Have you ever… wanted something unobtainable?’

‘Like some land or pieces of jewellery?’

‘No…and yes’ Valery swallowed nervously. ‘It is something you are not allowed to want. It is wrong to want.’

‘Illegal?’ Gran Gran moved her hands to his and held them gently like an anchor. There was no running now, the truth was tethered to her.

‘Yes’

Gran Gran stayed silent and waited expectantly.

‘I couldn’t be happy because of this. I couldn’t talk to people at all about this. It was illegal and it was dangerous.’

‘You couldn’t talk to your wife about this?’

Valery shuddered at her question, it was too close to the truth. He was silent for a few moments and then some strange courage leapt like a lion at his throat. ‘Who said I had a wife?’

The kitchen was silent except for the bubbling of the stew and the whisper of wind through the window.

‘No partner?’ Gran Gran asked very quietly, a strange knowing light in her eyes.

‘No.’

She squeezed his hands and said almost too softly to be heard. ‘You don’t love women, do you?’

Valery’s throat bobbed up and down wildly. ‘I tried to. I tried for many years, but I cannot love them like I want to.’

Gran Gran stared at Valery with a gentle light in her eyes, she reached over and took her handkerchief where she began to dab at Valery’s cheeks and removed his glasses. ‘You remind me of my son.’

Valery swallowed and peered at Gran Gran’s now blurry visage. ‘You have a son?’

Babushka nodded and with a sigh she lent back into her seat. ‘His name is Javier. He was tall strong and beautiful’.

‘Doesn’t sound like me’ Valery muttered.

‘Oh shush!’ Gran Gran scolded, ‘Javier was also gentle and clumsy. Didn’t like running around after chickens and little girls. He liked to draw such simple things like the leaves of olive trees, or the wing of a hawk and he would always do it on his mama’s porch’ Gran Gran touched her chest briefly and then held Valery’s hand again. ‘His drawings were never clumsy. Always elegant and graceful. But one day I noticed the drawings changed, they were no longer the trees of the forest, nor the fur or claw of the wild. He started to draw large beautiful eyes, with freckles around them. Then he drew hands, the details so pure that you could see the tiniest of scars. One day I saw him draw a man’ Gran Gran paused and gently shook Valery. ‘Child he never drew anyone. Anyone.’

Gran Gran stopped and took a sip of water before continuing. ‘But like you, I knew not to ask questions, he would just close up and be silent for days, like you. Then one day in town, I looked and noticed that my Javier wasn’t behind me at the stall. I looked thinking he found something interesting to look at or maybe something pretty to draw, but no. I saw him talking to a man. I only had a glimpse of him, but I knew in a second it was him, the man Javier drew. And Javier was so happy, the way he smiled at him would make the flowers turn from the sun, it would tame the West Wind or make the rain as warm as an ember. It was then I knew that Javier was in love’ Gran Gran finished and leaned back.

Valery’s throat worked and he once more felt tears burn his eyes. ‘What happened?’

‘The man died’ Gran Gran said simply. ‘An earthquake made his house fall on him. Javier wasn’t the same since.’ Valery was silent and quickly wiped his eyes, a gentle hand stilled his anxious movements and said in a soft voice, ‘Javier never said how he felt, of that I’m am sure, and it was also his greatest regret. I never told him I knew, and he never spoke of it.’

Valery felt his throat bob and burn with anxiety and grief. His long-held secret not pried from his heart but touched reverently or the first time in his life, Gran Gran squeezed his hands gently. ‘I now know a little bit more about you child, but where does this go?’

‘Where does what go?’ Valery asked thickly.

‘Where does this go with Boris? Are you- ‘

‘No, no’ Valery stood up from the bench quickly, pulling himself from Gran Gran’s hands. ‘Not that, there is nothing to do with Boris.’

‘But the way you act around him- ‘

‘There is no way I react around him!’ he almost shouted. ‘There is nothing there and there never will be. Not for him not at all.’

‘Child are you sure?’

‘He has a family, he has a daughter!’ Valery said and no small amount of envy and regret grabbed his heart. Valery’s heart beat wildly, and he clutched at his shirt like a lifeline. ‘Look I can’t…I can’t talk about this.’

‘You need to calm down now’ Gran Gran stood up and took his hand again.

‘How can I?!’ Valery gasped and felt sweat gather at his temples. ‘This is dangerous, no-one can know about this.’

‘It’s okay’ Gran Gran said and held his shoulders. ‘I would never say anything, you have my word’ she then said something in her mother tongue, a rich rolling word and gently kissed Valery’s hand. ‘Your secret is mine, it shall not stray from my lips.’

Hot emotions burned in Valery’s throat, tears budded in his eyes and he hoarsely whispered ‘If some-one found out…’

‘No one will, not one soul.’

Valery’s heart was racing like a feral horse and Gran Gran just nodded and squeezed his shoulders once more before passing him his glasses. ‘Now come young man. Get you shoes we will go to the market. You look sick as a dog the fresh air will do you well.’ Valery moved as if in a dream, Gran Gran pulled him through the motions of putting his shoes on and fixing his glasses. Yet all Valery could hear was _“you don’t love women, do you?”, _and the secret little thought begging for the real answer on everything that was and is Boris.

Gran Gran’s arm looped through his and he was only dimly aware of being led out of the house, the rich smells and flavours fading to the back. Noises and smells were all but muted to Valery, all he could feel was the queerest sensation of his heart being strangled with some emotion. Relief, that finally some-one knows, that some-one accepts him? Fear, that this is his largest mistake, that this knowledge has again opened the door to a thousand, thousand questions all of which cannot be answered? He only vaguely feels Gran Gran squeeze his arm, a comfort and a weight that scared him.

Distant chatter and the noises of life slowly touched his ears, yet still Valery was in this strange purgatory. He was dimly aware that this was nothing but a long panic attack, he felt his breaths pull heavily in his lungs, yet he was always short of breath and always the question circled his heart. _Will Babushka tell?_ He thought and swallowed thickly, his heart couldn’t handle the thought of ridicule or the looks of disgust from anyone even strangers, but lease of all Boris.

‘Child’ Gran Gran said.

‘Huh?’ Valery shook himself startled to find himself in the middle of the market square, his hands were trembling he noticed. Gran Gran gave him a concerned look and nudged him in the direction of an old dusty stall where an old man seemed half asleep on his face.

‘Find a book, I’ll be with you soon’ Babushka ordered and pushed him not un-gently in the direction of the stall. ‘It’s okay, everything will be fine child.’

Valery barely nodded, not bothering to commit to a lie and awkwardly shuffled to stall. He didn’t look back but could feel Gran Gran’s eyes trained to the back of his head. The stall was piled high with dusty novels, Valery glanced at the old man and was grateful he was asleep, he couldn’t deal with a sentient person who probably hates him. However, as Valery ran has fingers down the brittle spines of the books around him, there was a subtle change in him. The feel of old books especially leather-bound ones was one of the few treasures Valery savoured in life. It grounded him by touch, and reverently he picked up the novel and flicked open the pages close to his nose. The smell was more soothing than anything else.

His heart eased a bit, and just for a moment Valery allowed himself to be pulled into the rift of touching, smelling and observing this beautiful book. The leather was supple and a dark green, the title “Dr Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” was etched into the leather and the remain of gold flakes glinting in the sunlight. Beautiful. He did this again and again with all books. Dog eared paper backs and dusty embroider hardbacks. Each book smelt slightly different and each scent soothed his heart slightly. It was comforting like a hot bath in winter. However, something was burning the back of his head, subtle at first but growing increasingly worse as moments passed, For a few books Valery ignored, and few more, but it grew worse like having a fly buzz around your head... Valery closed the book and reverently placed in back onto the teetering pile, gently so not to wake the old man and looked over his shoulder. He froze. Behind him by no more than three meters was four tall men outright staring Valery down.

Sweat gathered at his temples and he hurriedly went to pick up another book, anything to distract himself as he prayed that these people would not bother him. Footsteps clacked against the stone ground and Valery winced at the sound. Hot breath puffed at his ear and his hair moved slightly. The person was just as close as Boris was last night. Valery swallowed and turned around.

‘Excuse me but can I help you?’ he demanded with a brow raised.

The man looking down at him had stained teeth and a nasty sneer, his companions looked no better and there expressions just as ugly as the man before him.

‘What’s my name?’ the man asked with a thick Russian accent.

‘Pardon?’ Valery asked thoroughly taken aback and hinting anger brewing in his stomach.

‘What’s my name?’ the man asked again his breath rank in Valery’s face. ‘And what his name, and his name and his name?!’ the man pointed slowly at each other person around him. People at the market seemed to smell the tension and were observing out of the corner of their eyes.

‘I’m sorry but I don’t know what- ‘

‘He doesn’t know, of course he doesn’t know’ the man said to his companions. He turned back to Valery and a wet gross sound filled the air as the man wretched phlegm from his throat and spat it on Valery’s shoe all green and slimy. ‘Finally a stain on your boots comrade Legasov!’ the man shouted, and his goons bellowed out laughter like great seals.

Valery was sick with a hangover; his heart was tender from such dangerous facts begin dissected out of him, his mind was confused and replaying the events of last night over and over in agonizing detail. Now it was too much. Valery lost his temper. And he really lost it.

The long time fixing his wild beast of a garden had trimmed the fat away from his arms and chest. Valery was lean, agile and angry. Before he blinked his hand curled and whipped up and across the man’s face, his knuckles slamming into this man’s repulsive stubble coated face in devastating back hand. The crack echoed across the market which was as silent as a grave. The man and his friends froze. Valery froze, not quite believing what he just did when all hell broke loose. Blood was pouring down the man’s nose when he grabbed Valery by the shoulders quick as a snake and he hissed out words soaked with murder.

‘My name is Yuri and you killed me when you ordered that tunnel built. You’ve made my wife a widow and my sons fatherless.’ Just as he finished, Yuri, a miner from Tula slammed his forehead straight into Valery’s. Blood exploded out of his nose and his glasses crunched against his face. Gasping from pain Valery stumbled backwards into the book stall sending the precious novels flying straight into the old man. All hell broke loose. Jeering from the men and expletives from the crowd screamed through the air. Valery’s eyes looked out to the crowd and there was people he recognized before staring at him with twisted smiles full of hate, all because of him, all because of Chernobyl. Valery’s gaze blurred when Yuri slammed a fist into his stomach. He tried to move away, tried to cover his face but this man’s friends grabbed his arm and held him down.

_Enough, enough, enough, enough!_ He was no longer angry, he was furious. ‘Yuri, that’s your name right?’ he muttered his mouth filled with blood. Yuri grabbed him by the neck and pulled him closer.

‘Say my name again and I break your teeth!’ he growled.

‘You better keep saying it yourself’ Valery muttered. ‘Your sons will grow up forgetting it, and your wife!’ Valery laughed. ‘She is already forgetting you as she is getting fucked by another man!’ with that he spat his mouthful of blood right into Yuri’s face.

Yuri shouted something un-intelligible and Valery was thrown to the ground. Heavy boots slammed into his ribs and the air rushed out of them. His injured hand was crunched cruelly into the ground causing Valery to cry out in pain. No one helped and Valery’s vision began to spot when heard pounding footsteps.

Shouting grew louder and louder and there was a great slam as Yuri was thrown to the ground and a large shoe hit like a hammer into the miner’s head. Valery gapped and struggle to sit up. But he did and his heart leapt into his throat. It was _him_. Boris’s silver eyes were beacons of rage, his hand was already coated in blood as he knocked down the second man with a single blow.

‘The Ukrainian bull…’ Valery muttered and coughed blood immediately. Boris slammed his foot into Yuri’s head again with a sickening snap making the man’s eyes roll back, he gave the second man the same tender treatment and slammed his elbow into the nose of the third. He collapsed to the ground with his companions. Valery watched in awe as Boris finally turned to the last man who rapidly backed away.

‘This man!’ Boris roared and pointed at Valery. ‘This man is the reason your family isn’t here with you now!’

‘H-he was the one who ordered us to our deaths’ the man stammered.

‘Yes he was and so as I!’ Boris bellowed back. ‘My name is Boris Shcherbina, and I killed you just as much as he did’ he stepped forward fast as a snake and grabbed the man by the collar. ‘If you, any of you’ Boris roared to the crowd, ‘so much as touch him again I’ll make you beg for a bullet!’ with that he rammed his fist into the last mans gut and threw him to the ground, where the man squirmed and threw up disgusting lumps of vomit on the ground.

Valery, with blood pouring out of his nose, with ruined glasses and his hand being held limply by his good one stared at Boris. Even with blood on his hands and his hair mussed by the wind Valery breath was ripped from his lungs and his heart shuddered. ‘Boris- ‘Valery tried to get up but his feet all but failed and he staggered forward. Strong hands, familiar hands gripped his shoulder and pulled Valery close.

Boris’s face was barely a handspan away, and Valery could only imagine how he looked, his face dripping blood. Boris crouched in front of Valery and his large hand grasped his chin, turning his face this way and that. ‘Your nose isn’t broken, but the glasses are absolutely fucked!’ Boris growled, he pulled the ruined spectacles off and grabbed a cloth out of his pocket and began to press it into Valery’s bleeding lip. Valery started to laugh, a wheezing thing that hurt his ribs, but he couldn’t stop it. Boris’s hand seemed to press heavily against him.

‘And if you are going to punch him don’t damn well backhand him! Put your goddamn shoulder in with the swing and- ‘But Valery couldn’t hear the rest, his laughter was growing louder yet Boris tried to smother it with his cloth. The crowd shuffled uneasily and both Valery and Boris did not notice some strangers pull the unconscious men away from the two. Some strangers may have offered their help, but Valery would never be able to recall.

Boris said nothing and it was sometime until the last of his rough laughter faded away. During that time Boris’s other hand lifted up and was holding the back of Valery’s head to keep him steady. ‘Dammit Valera…’ Boris sighed, his hand lifted from his mouth and the white cloth already a sickly sanguine was dabbed at his mouth with gentleness surprising of someone like Boris. ‘You shouldn’t have- ‘

‘What?’ Valery muttered lowly around the cloth, suddenly exhausted with parts of his body both throbbing and tingling with stinging needles. ‘It doesn’t matter does it Borja? The result would’ve been the same.’ Boris said nothing and his silence was enough if an answer. Gently, Valery’s hand shook yet he touched the hand that was dabbing at his mouth and pulled it away. Boris’s knuckles were spilt and already bruising, Valery studied them as was his nature. _“If any of you touch him again, I’ll make you beg for a bullet!”_, _that was what he said. I was never a religious man, but I have utter faith in you_ Valery thought. He held Boris’s hand like two old friends would, clasped in a solid unbroken way. Yet Valery was studying his hand so intently he barely even realised that he had pressed to his forehead to his fingers. The hand that held his head gently moved in his hair, so subtly that no-one would notice. _And reverence, _a voice in his head whispered. He wanted badly to press his lips into these fingers, those hands. He wish he did on the cliff when Boris looked at him with the night sky in his eyes and face. But for now…Valery ignored it. He smiled and looked up to see Boris’s anger dissipated, not gone but diluted by a strange gentleness. _Devotion_, Valery’s mind thought. He understood religion a little better that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...This chapter was tough, but I'm glad I wrote it, I found it very empowering for Valera. In my opinion I do find the majority of fanfics I've read more or less Wobbify Valery and I'm like??? Valery is a clumsy prideful badass! No anxious wreck would dare call out Gorbachev on the phone or in the Kremlin and do sissy would run after Karchov that litteral leader of the KGB! My man's got BALLS. And yes he does have anxiety but my man has pride too. He aint gonna take no shit from some assholes he doesn't know!
> 
> But guess what guys :) next chapter will be way lighter and very good trust me!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey readers! Sorry for the wait, I had some exams and work to catch up on. This chapter is a bit long around 5000 words, I hope you guys don't mind that. Next chapter should be coming soon because I'm now free for the summer! More notes will be at the bottom so I can talk about this chapter, but as always enjoy and let me know that you enjoy! 
> 
> xxoo

Valery’s good hand still held Boris’s to his forehead, his eyes were closed, thinking of the feel of his hand and the fingers threaded through his hair. It was enough to ignore the stone digging into his knees, it was enough to ignore his throbbing ribs, hand and face.

‘Oh shut the hell up!’ Boris suddenly spat.

Startled, Valery looked up and was met with the old angry book keeper waving at his books that were scattered to the ground. Valery winced, feeling just as put off as the old man at their state. ‘Do you know how hard it is to collect books?! Let alone take care of them here!’ the old man shouted, making his great long beard swing. ‘You youngsters have no respect- ‘

‘Youngsters?!’ Boris stood up, outraged, Valery sighed in disappointment as his hands left his hair and face. ‘I died when I was- ‘

‘Borja?’ Valery wheezed and grabbed idly at his sleeve, Boris immediately turned to him, concern creasing his brows. ‘Can you please yell at the man later?’

Boris gaped at him like a fish before quickly leaning down and hauling Valery up by his good hand. Valery groaned in pain, staggering forward only to be caught by Boris, who slung his arm around Valery’s shoulders, keeping him upright. ‘Shut up!’ Boris growled at the man who was still quietly fuming. ‘I’ll deal with you later!’

With that he turned around and began the slow journey of half guiding half carrying Valery home. Valery would’ve flushed at the again close proximity but subtly shook his head and decided to talk instead. ‘You know he was right about the books? They are all very nice quality and he takes care- ‘

‘Valera’ Boris began pointedly. ‘You’ve just been eaten half to death- ‘

‘Eaten?’ Valery questioned, he turned his head and spat out a gob of blood before continuing. ‘Being eaten may have been considerably worse than what happened. Think of all the bacteria in their mouths? Besides I know they are or were miners, that may be the norm-

‘**Beaten**’ Boris interjected and scowled much like he did when Valery marched up to Charkov, or better yet when he corrected Boris on the Luna rovers. Valery snorted in some dark amusement. ‘You’ve been beaten half to death and you’re more concerned about – about some stories?’

Valery’s head moved slightly to the side, his temple grazing onto Boris’s shoulder before he removed it. ‘Some things are important like that Borja.’

Boris stopped moving, making Valery stop too. They were just on the outskirts of the market, with many people and thoroughfare pushing past the two, only sparing quick glances at their strange proximity and appearance. Boris looked down at him from his impressive height, his eyes glinting. ‘Your priorities need to change then.’ Valery said nothing and could only imagine what he could see, his glasses were gone, and his face was covered in blood, _I must look like some alien beast to him_, Valery thought and flushed. _“You don’t love women, do you?” _Gran Gran’s voice still lingered in his head, not yet knocked out from the blows. Being held like this, so close and so gently, the words did not scare him like they did not an hour ago.

Valery smiled at that a little bit.

‘What?’ Boris asked his brow quirked.

‘At least I wasn’t eaten by the book guy’

‘Oh for the love of Christ’ Boris groaned. Valery began to laugh when he heard a terrify sound that made all noise freeze in his throat. The sound of heavy woven sandals slapping on the cobblestone cut through the noise of the market like a hot knife through butter.

‘RUSSIAN CHILD!’

‘Oh no…’ Valery sighed and tried to palm away the blood on his face. He could hear the berating coming.

‘Is that?’ Boris half asked.

‘Yes’

‘God dammit.’

The slapping footsteps grew louder and louder, but with speed defying a woman of her advanced years, Gran Gran’s gnarled hand gripped Valery’s sore shoulder and spun him out of Boris’s strong hands. Quick as spit Valery was being grabbed by the shoulders and shaken almost violently, and something close to a cohesive language was being shouted at Valery like a great Mexican volcano erupting. Gran Gran was near yelling something in Spanish while roughly shaking Valery’s shoulders, his bruised ribs rubbed against each other and he hissed in pain.

‘Babushka- ‘he was cut off by the old woman’s rough bedside manner.

‘Child what happened!’ Gran Gran shouted while Valery gently took Gran Gran’s hands and pulled them away from his body. ‘I heard about a fight, about some Russian getting beaten up and he was at the book seller- ‘

‘Yes that is what happened, Gran Gran’ Valery sighed. ‘I’m okay, just a little sore, so if you don’t mind maybe not jabbing me so hard?’

‘Where are they? The filth who did this?’

‘Don’t know’ Boris finally spoke up. Gran Grans burning gaze turned to Boris like a light house, Valery smiled a little, impressed that he didn’t seem fazed by her wrath.

‘Don’t know what?!’

‘Don’t know because we didn’t see what happened to them after I left the four of them on the dirty ground’ Boris raised a brow. ‘But I’m sure if you want to give them a _matronly-’_ Boris slightly smirked at the last word. ‘-Dressing down you could ask all the locals. The public show drew quite a crowd wouldn’t you think Valera?’ he turned to the injured man. ‘Sure a handful got a good view of the men.’

‘You stopped them?’ Gran Gran demanded.

Boris lifted his right-hand letting Gran Gran get a good look at it. Valery leaned in slightly towards it, already missing his glasses and winced at the already purple knuckles, most of which had ugly red gashes that wept a bit of blood. Gran Gran said nothing but nodded approvingly, but Valery shuddered at the sight. He looked up discretely, feeling his jaw work a bit and met Boris slightly blurry eyes. Boris was also looking at his hand but must have sensed Valery’s guilt, his eyes turned to Valery’s too soon for him to look away. _Thank you_, Valery thought. Boris blinked and looked back at Gran Gran.

‘I’m taking him back to his house.’

Babushka muttered something unintelligible and grabbed Valery’s elbow, beginning her own escort of the poor professor. Valery looked back and was oddly relieved to see Boris following right behind him. It was a slower walk then normal, Valery did not realise how roughly he was thrown to the ground, and his hip smarted with each step. He winced again as Gran Gran marched forward un-deterred by Valery’s limp.

Still he noticed how warm his heart felt in that moment. This beautiful old woman was here, taking care of him, _concerned _for him. When he was alive, in the last years, having anyone beyond his cat was not even a question. And Boris. There was too few words in the human language for Valery to use with Boris, any words seemed sticky and brutish when Valery struggled in that moment to think of anything meaningful to say to him.

Gran Gran kept muttering and speaking almost too quickly to hear properly. There was a mix of nasty comments at those miners that Valery couldn’t help but agree with, and also in there was her regrets. ‘I’m sorry’ she said softly just once. Valery lowered his bad hand and gently patted Gran Gran’s old one holding his arm. ‘It’s okay.’

Gran Gran looked up at him and smiled with a gentleness that Valery hadn’t seen before. He wished he wasn’t so sore that he could hold her in that moment.

* * *

Valery was led through the door, and all three of them awkwardly shucked off their shoes once over the threshold. All three of them silently passed through the double doors across from the kitchen, into the dining room. The dinning room where oh so long-ago Valery thought would never be used except for the spiders in it.

‘Valera, don’t you dust?’ Boris asked, running a finger across the window sill.

‘Never use this room’ Valery wheezed and lowered himself into a seat. ‘Didn’t see the point.’

‘Child do you have any bandages and anti-septic cream?’ Gran Gran asked.

‘Ah…No?’

Gran Gran turned to Valery with a mother’s stern disappointment. ‘Child you get as injured as a little boy and you have nothing here? What about when your hand was cut?’, though that same hand was now bleeding again.

‘I just used a tea-towel’ Valery replied.

Gran Gran stared at him, and Valery’s ears burned when Boris tried and failed to hind his quiet laughter. ‘You used… a tea-towel?’ Gran Gran said slowly.

Valery sighed. ‘Yes. If it helps, I hadn’t used it before and it wasn’t a very nice one, so it’s not like we are missing out-’

‘Oh!’ Gran Gran exclaimed and threw her hands to the ceiling. ‘It’s no wonder that you’re dead! What did you die of, a paper cut you let get septic?!’

Boris’s laughter died immediately, and Valery felt a weight settle in his chest and sink to his feet. ‘No, that’s not how I died’ Valery said.

Gran Gran must have felt the tenuous good humour get sucked out of the room in a cold vacuum, though she pretended to not notice it. ‘Oh whatever the case I need to get _real_ cleaning gear. For the love of god do not move!’ she said and rapidly left the room in a hasty retreat.

Boris and Valery were silent for a few moments, until Boris got up from where he was leaning against the wall and left the room. ‘Boris?’ Valery called out.

There was noises around the house of rustling and movement and eventually Boris came back in with a glass of water and an un-used tea towel. ‘Surely you won’t miss another one?’ Boris asked with a hint of a smile. He sat down at the long empty table right across from Valery and arranged the things in a perfunctory manner before gesturing vaguely. ‘Your hand’ he did not ask.

With another never-ending sigh, Valery passed over his aching hand, deliberately not looking as Boris took it, gently in his own and inspected it. _Your hands are warm,_ Valery thought. He couldn’t look at Boris as the man held his own hand gently in one, and inspected it with another, lifting his fingers and gently prodding the meat of his palm.

‘You’re lucky’ Boris said.

‘Yes, I’m sure I am getting a beating and everything.’

‘You’re lucky it isn’t broken.’

They were silent for a time, Valery feeling too embarrassed to speak, and Boris too invested in his work to say anything. Gran Gran took all good humour with her as she hurried out of the house and Valery was left with tension. It was when Boris brought the wet cloth to the blood and grit in the re-opened cut that Valery hissed in pain and looked up. Boris’s silver eyes were trained on him like a spotlight.

‘Gran Gran doesn’t know?’ he asked.

‘No’ Valery said, ‘there is no reason for her to know’ Valery watched Boris carefully as the man’s eyes slowly moved away from his own and focused on his medical work. There was sad resignation behind his eyes that Valery felt squeeze his heart. ‘Will you forgive me one day?’

Boris looked up again, ‘maybe’ he said and with careful precision he took the tea towel and ripped it into strips that he slowly wound around his hand. ‘Yes, maybe. But not yet.’ It was tight and the rough fabric chaffed against Valery’s wounds, but he dared not say anything. Boris then held Valery’s and gestured to it sternly. ‘Do not do any gardening for a while.’

Valery nodded glumly, already restless that he couldn’t work but understanding the wisdom in his words. As Boris put his hand down, Valery reached over and took the water and the last of the clean cloth strips before gesturing to Boris this time. ‘Your hand’ he asked exactly like Boris had.

Boris scoffed and unceremoniously dropped his hand towards Valery, his blotchy purple and split knuckles on proud display. Valery picked up his hand and gently began to dab away the blood and debris that somehow made its way into the cuts. He flushed, embarrassed at how his help seemed flowery and gentle, like a simpleton’s attentions compared to Boris’s stoic touches.

‘I’m…’ Boris began, and Valery quickly looked up. Boris sighed and stared into Valery’s deep blue eyes, ‘I’m proud of you.’

‘…Why?’ Valery asked, his hands stopped moving.

‘There was four of them, but you didn’t take their shit like most people would. You threw it back at them and even hit one of them’ Boris’s lips pulled upwards at the corner and his smile reached his eyes. ‘Sometimes I forget that you are the person that marched into the kremlin and told everyone in there to stop, shut up and listen. I forget that you…’ Boris paused and began to laugh. ‘You personally told off Mikhail …Mikhail Gorbachev! And then-’ Boris grinned at Valery. ‘You pretty much told the KGB to go fuck themselves.’

‘Yes well you should have seen your face when I argued with you in that meeting at the Kremlin’ Valery began to grin and tried to hide his smile’s awkward quirks. ‘I’ve never seen a person so angry, you were puffed up at the table like an angry cat!’

‘Well you should have seen yours when I called you out for fearmongering, that you didn’t know the “entire situation”’ Boris retorted and Valery laughing now, not the quiet chuckles, but deep belly laughs that gusted out of him like a storm. Valery couldn’t remember the last time he laughed like this.

‘I was so… so angry!’ Valery gasped between breaths.

They laughed together for a few minutes, Valery noticed some tears budded in Boris’s eyes and felt his own cheeks hurt from smiling so much. He almost didn’t notice he was clasping Boris’s hands tightly, and that Boris was holding his too, but he did, and it made him smile more. Soon Valery and Boris were there gasping for breath and the professor shook his head quickly while restarting his sad attempts at first aid.

‘This’ Boris said breathlessly, ‘this is good. It’s good to hear you laugh like that.’

‘It is good to be able to. But also…Thank you, for everything’ he gestured to Boris’s hand and smiled, and Boris smiled back. He wondered why it was so easy to just be with Boris. And not feel the thoughts that was always peppering the back of his mind, to not feel the stress in his shoulders and jaw from pent up stress. His cheeks hurt from smiling, his heart was light and dancing and not drifting to his feet to be trodden on. It was wonderful.

The front door slammed and both Boris and Valery jumped slightly, their hands fell apart in a hasty tumble.

‘Please do not tell me you have gotten more injured while I’ve been gone’ Gran Gran said as she walked through the dinning room door. Under her arms she carried two very heavy looking woven baskets, one of them steaming slightly. ‘I brought lunch too- ‘she looked up and bounced slightly at the torn shreds of fabric and dirty water. Her gaze danced to Valery’s tightly bandaged hand and then Boris’s less adequately bandaged hand and her eyebrows raised.

‘For the love of the Mother, please tell me you cleaned that before bandaging?’ Gran Gran pointed to Valery’s hand.

‘Yes’ Boris replied with a chuff.

Gran Gran turned to Boris and raised a brow before inspecting his own hand. ‘Is this your work too?’ the old woman tutted and shook her head.

‘No’ Boris said while smiling easily at Valery. ‘This is Valera’s handiwork’

‘Oh!’ Gran Gran turned to Valery and shook her head while the poor professor just shrugged awkwardly. Old Babushka went to work immediately after chastising Valery and Boris a bit by fixing Boris’s poorly wrapped hand and then setting to clean and fix Valery. His face was tender and very sore, the cleaning was slow going for a long while as Gran Gran paused at Valery’s every hiss of pain. The iodine she used smelled all too familiar. They brought back images of men in rubber suits, with too little lead plating spraying the red-brown liquid in every contaminated area. Valery’s face twitched awkwardly as he wondered if some of those men were still alive. Gran Gran scolded him again for moving. She had to remove little chips of glass that were embedded in his cheeks and skin above his nose. It wasn’t tender treatment, but it was fast, and Valery was grateful for that.

‘Where will we get him more glasses?’ Boris asked to no-one in particular.

‘They are prescription’ Valery said around Gran Gran’s moving hand. ‘I doubt they do that here.’

‘You’d be surprised’ Gran Gran muttered.

A while after, Gran Gran demanded that Valery remove his shirt so she could inspect his ribs and lower-back. At that he refused.

‘I’m not taking my shirt off’ Valery and gently pushed away Gran Gran’s hands.

‘Child your ribs may be broken.’

‘If they were broken, I would bet I couldn’t move let alone walk home and sit upright. And I’m _not_ a child.’

‘You sound more like a child by saying that!’

‘Babushka’ Boris interjected. ‘He doesn’t want to take his shirt off, fine. If he was truly hurt, he would.’

Gran Gran huffed but let off and Valery heaved a not so discrete breath of relief. It is true he did loose weight from all the gardening and walking, but he didn’t want to be observed and prodded like a lab rat…Especially with Boris here. Soon it was all over, and Valery couldn’t tell if he was better off or not for receiving babushka’s dedicated treatment. It was getting later in the day, the horizon no longer a bright blue but a hazy dark purple with orange clouds drifting across the window. A few strong beams of light cut through the windows lighting the dust motes swirling in the air.

‘It’s getting late’ Gran Gran stood up and nudged the food basket towards the two men. ‘Eat you two, I’ve had enough of people for the day, I will see you tomorrow for the basket!’ she said sternly, but not before giving Valery and gentle pat on the shoulder, and Boris an approving nod before leaving.

‘Thank you, Babushka’ Valery said.

‘Thank you’ Boris also said. 

Gran Gran gave an over the shoulder wave and tottered out of the room, leaving the two in the room smelling of iodine and spinning dust motes.

Valery sighed and nudged the basket towards Boris. ‘Here take it, I’ve lost my appetite.’

Boris nodded and opened the basket, letting a waft of smells breach the room. It was the same food that Gran Gran gave him this morning. Boris took out a wrapped-up clay pot and found a stray spoon in there too. Valery kept waiting for him to get up and leave, but soon it became apparent that he wasn’t going anywhere.

‘Ah…’

Boris looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘Aren’t you going to eat that at your place?’ Valery asked awkwardly.

‘Comrade, do you want me gone?’ Boris said with a raised brow.

‘No-no, I just don’t know if you want to be here…’ Valery said and rubbed his temple delicately. A slow head ache was building up and taking residence in his skull.

‘I’m staying the night.’

Valery froze. ‘What?’

‘I’m staying’ Boris opened the pot and began to take generous bites from the meal. When Valery said nothing but stared, Boris sighed and set down his spoon. ‘Your head was hit multiple times, if you escaped both broken ribs _and _a concussion I would be impressed. And besides’ Boris leaned back in his seat and draped an arm across the back. ‘I’m…concerned that they know where you live.’

‘Oh.’ Valery looked down and forced back a smile, _he is staying here,_ it felt good it felt right, even if it was just a safety precaution. After such a terrible day, Valery felt indescribable happiness rush through him like electricity.

* * *

After Boris finished eating, he packed up the containers and walked over to Valery where he offered his hand. ‘Are you feeling any better?’

‘Not really’ Valery said and took his hand, Boris then hauled him up and guided him into the lounge. The room was a bit cluttered. There was books lying everywhere, in stacks on the floor or the coffee table, a huge tome with beautiful detailed plants was opened on the table next to a cup of coffee gone cold. ‘Sorry about the mess.’

‘Well at least your house looks lived in’ Boris said and pushed a few books on the couch aside before pushing Valery down in it, he strode to the other couch opposite him and dropped in it. ‘Though I thought everyone has a study?’

‘Oh I do, it’s upstairs. But It’s annoying taking a book and walking all the way down here again.’

‘Lazy’ Boris said but there was no mocking in his voice. Valery smiled for a second, but it fell as Boris looked at the coffee table and saw the newsprint. He frowned, grabbing the end and tugging the sheets out from under the backs of the few books on the table.

‘Ah, that’s- ‘

‘That’s me’ Boris said and turned the newsprint towards Valery. The old picture of Boris looking stoically out of the paper couldn’t be more removed from the man sitting opposite Valery. ‘Why is this here?’

Valery’s face flushed and he worried the…_implications _of having a newsprint about Boris in his house might say. He played with his bandages anxiously before answering. ‘When I first, came here, right after I died, I got that in the mail box. I don’t know why, but it… You were on it, it was important.’

Boris nodded and sighed at the same time. His eyes were lost in memories, his face drawn and cold in the failing light. What memories he was re-living, Valery could only wonder, so he leaned forward some. ‘What happened there, at Spitak?’

Boris was silent and he quietly put the newsprint away on the table face down. ‘It was terrible, it was like a war. The great war, when I was at the frontlines, and over 40,000 people died. Chernobyl was bad, but this’ Boris rubbed his head. ‘Would you believe this was worse?’

‘No’ Valery said honestly. ‘I don’t think anything could be worse than Chernobyl.’

‘At Chernobyl we did save lives, not enough but we saved them. We prevented the worst of it. I was left with the worst of the wreckage here.’ Valery would not argue this point, he wasn’t there, he wouldn’t know.

‘Why did you go?’ Valery asked.

‘There is no why, I was given no choice in the matter.’

‘Boris you were dying!’

‘Yes Valera, I had only two years left at that point, but I was ordered all the same! What else could I have done? There was no-one left for me, all I had was the service to a falling empire!’

‘You told me you had a daughter?’

‘I do’ Boris said angrily, but as he paused some of the anger died. ‘I did. She… We had a falling out.’

‘Oh’ Valery said. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Why?’ Boris said, looking up quickly. ‘You didn’t know her, didn’t know what happened.’

‘Because she was your family.’

‘And where is yours?’

Valery looked up stunned. ‘I have none- ‘

‘Then how would you know anything about having a family. Having anyone?’

_He is right, how would I know_ Valery thought and looked at his feet. There was silence and it was tense and unforgiving and cold. ‘You’re right’ Valery finally said and met Boris’s eyes, Valery felt some anger smoking like an ember in his stomach. ‘How would I know anything about that, right? It made what I had to do all the easier, no one would truly miss me.’ Valery stood up and his aching leg spasmed in pain. His head throbbed angrily.

‘Valera- ‘

‘If you are going to stay, then stay. If not, the door is there. But don’t ever, don’t you ever think I had it easy because I had no-one! You had some-one at some part of your life. A daughter who you raised, a wife!’ Valery spat out and limped towards the stairs. ‘You had some-one to grieve for you, some-one to miss, damn the arguing and everything.’

‘I grieved for you!’ Boris yelled at him, but Valery ignored it, and with difficulty trudged up the stairs.

Valery reached his bedroom and slammed the door heavily, the slam echoing in the house. The injured man practically threw himself onto the bed, the mattress sagging briefly before bouncing back into place. _How can he be like this!_ Valery seethed. Only hours ago the two were laughing, they were smiling and happy, Valery heard his heart whisper that he was holding his hand. _I ask anything about him, and he just- How does he have the right to treat me this way!_ Though some part of Valery knows he may have crossed an unseen line asking of his family, asking of Spitak, all because of a newsprint he received in the mail.

Valery lay in bed, his good hand grabbing and bunching into the pillow as his anger didn’t dissipate but stewed. His eyes could only see well for a few meters in front of him, but his ears were sharp, he listened intently for a long while for the sound of the front door opening. The only thing he heard was rapidly pacing footsteps echoing on the floor, but even after a while those became quieter and quieter until he heard the couch shift on the ground as Boris threw his weight on to it. _So he is staying, _Valery thought, he couldn’t tell if that was a blessing or a curse.

The night became a waiting game for both men. Neither slept for a long while and they waited for any sign of life. Valery’s ears twitched at every slight movement he heard, his eyes were half open and watching the waning moon slowly rise from the corner of his window, blurred though it is.

* * *

Valery’s eyes snapped open with start. He had fallen asleep. When, he could not say but the moon was now low in the sky and sinking below the trees. He blinked and heard it again, the source of his waking. Hardly audible though it was, it grated against the norm of Valery’s night sounds. He could hear it beneath the soft song of the owl and the muffled crunch of trees meeting trees in brief embrace through the night. It was the noise of muffled whimpers and half formed words. It was the sounds of nightmares.

Valery struggled up from bed, his body no kinder to him than earlier that night, though the fierce ache in his head was no longer waging war in his skull. He limped to the door and opened it gently. It was only opened a gap, but the noises were stronger, and there it was, yes choking growl the Valery heard clearly at the top of the stairs. _Is he…? _Valery thought and his foot stood poised to cross the threshold of his room to the stairs. Valery stayed there for a long time, just listening. Too long. For that was his friend down there, in pain, yet Valery could not decide if he should help or creep back into his room to cover his ears with a pillow. But then he heard words.

‘допомогу …’

Valery’s head snapped towards the stairs and he took a few paces forward. _Help…_The word was not in Russian but Ukrainian, and the words that followed Valery could not understand or they were muffled. Swallowing Valery gently edged towards the stairs and crept down them as quietly as his limp allowed. Boris lay on the couch, his form twisting and shivering to-and-fro on the small thing. More Ukrainian words poured out of his mouth in rapid fire, and though Valery couldn’t understand, the panic building in Boris’s voice was building.

He crept forward until he was close enough to the couch and could see Boris’s expressions. They were deep set in a mix of anger and terrible fear that Valery had only a briefest glimpse of a shadow before. When he told Boris he was to die. _Stop, please stop_, he thought but Boris didn’t, and his words began to change into strange guttural noises that keened at the back of his throat.

Fear gathered in Valery, and he found himself hunkering down close, too close and grabbed Boris’s shoulder. Boris’s eyes snapped open and his large form surged up, Valery was so startled that he didn’t see Boris’s hand moving until it was grasping at his throat, his fingers sinking deep into Valery’s skin. Valery gasped and choked, the hand was strong, and his throat ached as it was being bruised, his frightened breaths were cut short to his lungs. Valery grabbed Boris’s arm desperately, his fingers digging deeply into the man’s arm.

‘Boris…S-stop’ he gasped out. The man’s silver eyes were wild and if anything his grip grew tighter. ‘Borja…’ the name, the diminutive did something. Boris’s eyes grew wide and his hand flew back and clutched at the couch. Valery doubled over coughing and hacking as great breaths drew cold air haphazardly into his lungs. Panic and fear burned with his chest and he held his throat gingerly.

‘Valera!’ Boris gasped frozen on the couch as Valery struggled to recollect himself.

‘Why?! Why did y-you…’ Valery trailed off as he began to cough deeply into his bad hand.

‘I’m sorry I’m so sorry’ Boris leaned forward and held Valery’s shoulders. Valery flinched at the touch. ‘I didn’t…I thought you were- ‘

‘Thought I was who?!’ Valery gasped out, suddenly angry.

‘Him!’

_Him?_ ‘who is _he_ Boris?!’

‘The men, the Nazis…’ Boris nearly whispered. 

Valery paused, his hand still holding his throat. ‘The Nazis?!’

‘There was four, they got around the no man’s land. They killed…They killed everyone. I woke up and they were at the camp, drinking. I saw them and they saw me. There was one…’ Boris gasped, and Valery stomach dropped at the tears budding in his eyes. ‘I tried…they killed all of them and I had to…’ Boris’s breath shuddered violently, and he leaned forward his forehead pressed into Valery’s shoulder. Valery’s mind was numb, and fear crept in his heart again. Not for himself but fear for him in his arms. Boris’s breathing was heavy and ragged against his arm and despite their fighting, despite Boris’s violence, Valery’s arms curled around him tentatively at first and then held him tight. ‘I’m sorry’ Boris hissed.

‘No’ Valery whispered and pressed his face against Boris’s head. ‘It’s okay. Let me help you. Please Borja let me help.’

‘Stay.’

So he did. Valery sat there, on the cold hard ground as his body ached and, his back began to cramp from holding Boris so, but he never once moved. If it did it was his hands bunching at Boris’s shirt or his face adjusting his position on Boris’s head. His hair smelt like pine trees. It may have been hours later when his breath was even and slow. But still he stayed. Eventually Boris’s hand lifted up and held the back of Valery’s head, the other, the professors back. They held each other and breathed. Valery burned the feeling of him into his memory, commemorating every breath, for never before had he held someone, anyone like this before. It was intimate it was good and his heart yearned for them to stay like this forever.

_Stay, please stay with me_, Valery thought. He could stay in each other’s arms forever and not need anything else or anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WoooWeee, you know what this story needed some of? Boris Character development, this guy has had a hard life. As I said at the start of this story, these are the fictional Boris and Valery, however, I have taken some parts of their real counterpart's lives. Such as the Spitak earthquake and while there isn't much public info on real Boris I'm very cerrtain he did serve in WW2. This guy has seen A LOT of distruction, from war to Chernobyl to the earthquake, there is no chance this man was part of all three events and got out unscathed. I take mental health very seriously and I try to look at the real life consequences of being around traumatic events like this. Him hurting Valery was an accident, Valery is smart he already knows that.
> 
> The story as picking up in the next chapter but this one has set a lot of ground work for what s to come. It is a very emotionally satisfying chapter haha. Well leave a comment and tell me how you think guys, and thanks again for reading! Over 400 hits! Incredible!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! I really hope you enjoy this chapter, the last part I stared and stared and stared at until the words almost didn't make sense. All your comments and Kudos are the greatest things in the world.
> 
> 26/11/19 note: Edited to change the chapter title, I before hand put chater instead of chapter, also to add a meme in the bottom notes haha
> 
> A summary: Gran Gran gives good life advise, Valery starts to learn Ukrainian, Boris finds some peace.

The night passed slower than it had any right to, Valery somehow found the strength in his back to hold the large man for longer than _he _had any right to. Boris’s shirt was soft and thick under his finger’s that were creasing it over and over again. _Nightmares…_Valery finding Boris alone on the cliff at night, Boris who he seldom slept even at Pripyat. _Boris when I told him he was to die, he has been told that before, I damn well bet money on that_, Valery bit his lip to stop himself from swearing.

Boris shifted against him making Valery start slightly from surprise. The man pulled away, his back still hunched and his head bowed as he stared at his feet. He was silent. Valery was silent, he can’t be, shouldn’t be.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Stop’ Boris replied, his voice rough. ‘Stop saying that. You can’t be sorry, I won’t let you say that.’

‘How…’ Valery started but his voice trailed off. _How what? How come you haven’t told me about this? How have you kept silent, until now? What. What happened in the war, what happened in Spitak? What do you want from me? Who. who do you want me to be right now?_ Boris was still silent and unmoving._ Who do you want me to be for you?_

Valery stood stiffly, his joints creaking, his hips and ribs flaring in pain. His mouth was dry, and his hands shook. _Stop it, stop being scared for once! _Boris didn’t look at him until he moved and sat next to him on the couch, his wounded body gratefully reclining into the plush leather.

‘Don’t you tell anyone about this!’

‘I won’t’ Valery said.

Boris said nothing and stared at Valery intensely, so much so that Valery was concerned that he was going to be choked again.

‘How can I help you?’

‘Pah’ Boris shook his head. ‘Not likely, not damn well likely. No one can.’

_Boris. Boris, Boris, Boris, _Valery thought and fidgeted anxiously. _You hide him well, but you’re still the man sitting in the sun with blood in one hand, and a caterpillar in the other. _‘Let me try.’

‘No.’

‘Borja.’

‘Valera, no’ Boris shook his head and placed a heavy hand on the professor’s shoulder. ‘Go to bed and rest. I’ll not bother you with this shit again.’

And there it was, the answer to this strange abysmal question Valery could not answer. ‘Stay’ Valery placed a hand atop of the one on his shoulder.

‘What?’ Boris asked incredulously.

Valery’s confidence wavered for a second, but he pressed on. ‘Stay here, I need the help around the place. Christ knows I cannot help myself’ Valery waved his injured hand.

Boris’s jaw worked back and forth like he was chewing over a nasty piece of meat. ‘This happens’ Boris gestured at himself. ‘This happens a lot.’

‘Don’t care.’

‘You don’t care when you are woken near every night by man shuddering at ghosts?!’ Boris’s eyes were thunderous, and he turned back to his feet once more.

‘I don’t’ Valery squeezed the hand still on his shoulder. ‘I don’t care if these ghosts come and haunt me, they can damn well try, and I’ll add them to my ones. Stay here. Please.’

Boris was staring at him again, but his eyes were softer than before. _Please stay, stay with me, stay for me_.

‘Go back to bed Valera’ Boris’s hand left his shoulder only to travel across his cheek, rough with stubble. It stayed there for a moment before falling back to its owner’s lap. It was something, that gesture was something wonderful and so wanted. But the gesture was a dismissal all the same.

So Valery did get up and he limped a few steps away before turning back to the man. He seemed smaller in the moonlight, his silhouette blurry. ‘My glasses…’ Valery started quickly, and Boris looked up at him and probably had a brow raised. ‘I can’t see well right now.’

They were silent, and Valery tried so hard to express what his words could not through his expressions. _Stay _they said, _I want to help _they said. But his face was blurry, so he couldn’t tell if it made any difference. When the silence was too much, Valery hobbled away and up the stairs, Boris neither speaking or moving the entire time. The bed welcomed him greedily, for his body ached from the beating, the hangover and the cramped way he held the man downstairs. But Valery did not welcome sleep, he strained to hear any sound for as long as he could until gravity forced his eyelids down and oblivion took him.

* * *

Sun light woke him gently, yet Valery sat bolt right up and listened. He listened and listened and listened for anything, but the house was silent. The professor stood up with great difficulty, his body more tight and painful than a few hours ago, and he walked to the door. He was halfway down the stairs when he looked into the lounge. The couch was barren, the blankets neatly folded. Boris was gone.

* * *

Valery began a haunted routine of the day, every action was half hearted, a ghost of his once fiery determination. He couldn’t garden so he read, and when he couldn’t read more than three lines without re-reading them three times over he closed the book and look to the sky. It was back. The cold and heavy misery that accompanied him most of his life and drove him to the end. It was back, and all because Boris was scared and he couldn’t help him.

_“You don’t love women, do you?”,_ Gran Gran had asked.

‘No’ Valery finally replied into the lonely sky. He remembered the brief encounters with men in his youth. Always a near stranger, never someone close or personal, never someone that could use this against him. It was also always in discrete places, where people were least likely to go past in the darkest hours of the night. And he was quiet, so so quiet even if he enjoyed it. Even if he wasn’t enjoying it. It was mostly crude, his needs seldom seen to, but he needed it, the attention, the touch. Even if he was just pressed up against a wall and used thoroughly, the man always leaving without a word afterwards.

_“Where does this go with Boris?”_

‘I want…’ Valery began. Every touch between the two, every smile, every laugh replayed in his mind in perfect harmony. It started when Boris forced Valery to walk with him and feed the dogs, all those years back in Pripyat, _he called me Valery…_The first touch, when Boris noticed him smiling, he was _happy_ he was smiling and when he hugged him and still held him close afterwards. Every time Boris touched him, he noticed _it_, the way he pressed their foreheads together, the way he defended Valery against the miners, the way he crumpled into his arms last night. With those men in the past it was impersonal, with Boris… Boris was the most personal the most cherished thing. A perfect flower Valery was hesitant to approach, fearing it will wilt and die at his touch. ‘I want…’, but he couldn’t say what he wanted, for to say would mean he may just touch the flower and kill all the beauty it possessed.

* * *

Valery was still on the veranda, overlooking his vast garden. It was coming along nicely. The wildness had slowly begun the slow yet gratifying change to organisation. Instead of sprawled weeds, flower blooms were filing the ranks of their beds. It made Valery feel good, it made him feel some control in this place.

Footsteps crunched on the gravel around the side of his house and Valery closed his eyes, pretending it was Boris coming. Yet it is Gran Gran coming for her basket, she said she would. ‘Good morning Babushka, I’ll go grab your basket.’

‘No one has ever called me Babushka before’ a deep and rough voice said.

Valery jolted up and turned to the figure close by. Though blurry and vague the imposing figure couldn’t be more familiar. ‘Borja, I didn’t expect you to…’

‘Yes well’ Boris began and walked up the steps to the veranda, he leaned on the railing and dropped a nice leather bag at his feet. ‘I had to get a few things.’

He was close now, close enough that Valery could make out his dark almost black hair and silver eyes looking at him in an almost shy way. There was a portion of colour to his cheeks, yet Valery couldn’t be sure.

‘You’re staying?’ Valery asked.

‘Well I won’t hear the end of it from Gran Gran if I let you fall over every damn thing you can’t see’ Boris said but not unkindly. ‘Hell’ Boris leaned in a bit and Valery suddenly felt the sweat at the back of his neck and fidgeted anxiously. ‘Your face really got smacked in.’

‘Yes well I suppose I wouldn’t know because I don’t have glasses’ Valery said nervously and stood up. Boris followed him in and dropped his bag at the end of the same couch he slept in just last night. There was silence, and then Boris looked up, it was his turn to be nervous. Or the closest thing Boris Shcherbina gets to being nervous.

‘How long am I staying?’ he asked.

‘As long as you want’ Valery replied.

So he did, and in that moment, the lonely house began to sing the sounds of life.

* * *

They days passed smoothly, and the nights less so. Boris was right, his nightmares troubled him near every night. Out of respect Valery has not gone down to wake him or help him, he believes if he did, he would drive Boris out again. But the urge remained, and the professor soon began to lose sleep also as his eyes were wide open in the darkest times of the night, listening to the man down stairs.

* * *

‘So’ Gran Gran started as she sat on the veranda with Valery. They were sharing a cigarette, a new pack arrived in Boris’s mail box before he came back to Valery. ‘He is living with you?’

‘Yes’ Valery said, his eyes never leaving the blurry figure of Boris as he attacked the menacing bramble with greater efficiency than Valery could ever manage.

‘Hmm’ Gran Gran hummed, she pulled a face and nodded sagely.

‘What?’ Valery asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

‘Nice to have a handsome, tall, well built man around isn’t it?’

‘Oh!’ Valery sighed and bumped his elbow against her shoulder. His face was flushed dangerously red.

‘Well…’ Gran Gran shrugged. ‘Does this mean… Are you two?’

‘No’ Valery said.

‘Pah’ Gran Gran waved her hand, almost upset that there wasn’t _anything _between them. ‘So why is he here?’

‘He…’ Valery drew heavily on the cigarette. ‘You can’t tell anyone, I mean anyone’ Valery said seriously. ‘If others find out- ‘

‘Oh who would I tell child?!’ Gran Gran reprimanded.

‘Look he is a very private man.’

‘Yes, yes’ Gran Gran waved her hand dismissively. ‘What is happening?’

So Valery quickly explained. The war, Chernobyl and Spitak; everything they do to Boris. ‘He doesn’t want to be alone in a house.’

Gran Gran’s eyes were sad and full of compassion as she looked back at Boris, working like a machine in the garden. ‘Oh, that brave man.’

‘Yes’ Valery agreed easily. ‘He is that.’

‘Has things gotten easier for him? Being here with you?’

Valery shook his head, ‘no, he gets very bad nightmares.’

‘Do you help?’

‘It’s not a good idea’ Valery said quickly, discretely trying to hike up the collar of his shirt where the bruises still stained his neck. ‘I’m worried I will drive him out.’

‘Child’ Gran Gran grabbed his hand and held it firmly, her ambers eyes boring into his. ‘If he is here, with you, _because of you_, he is asking for your help.’

‘Babushka, you do not know him like I do.’

‘No’ Gran Gran said and tightened her hold on Valery’s hand. ‘But I know people. Dramatic people, kind people, sad people and stoic people’ she nodded at Boris with the last word. ‘I know people a lot better than you I bet. I know that he is asking for something, and from you alone. He isn’t just distracting himself by being here with you, that I can bet you’ with that she grabbed the cigarette.

Valery stared at Boris’s back in thought. He wondered what to do.

* * *

Some days later, Valery was in the kitchen crafting dinner. Gran Gran the beautiful woman, obviously doesn’t feed him every day so he must cook. He secretly enjoys it. The preparation, measuring, dicing, it was like the beginning of a chemistry experiment, especially when he starts to place the food in the frying pan. And he doesn’t need his glasses to cook. Still Valery is making a very special dish tonight and was preparing the chicken when he detected movement behind him.

‘What are you making?’ Boris asked and moved behind Valery.

Valery could smell him. He smelled of soap from the shower and the warm linen he was wearing. He wondered what his skin would smell like. ‘Oh not too sure really. I’ve eaten it in restaurants and cafes years ago. It seems pretty simple really.’

‘It’s chicken Kiev!’ Boris exclaimed and Valery turned to the man with a small smile. _He sounds so excited_, Valery thought, but he was suddenly struck by how tired Boris looked. His hair was mussed from the shower, but his eyes were darker and his face more haunted looking. _ Did you even try and sleep_? He thought. ‘My mother made this all the time’ the man continued.

‘Oh? I didn’t know’ Valery lied. Boris told him as much in one of their late-night walks in Pripyat. An idea started brewing in his mind. ‘What do you think will go well with it? I have some cabbage, I can make cabbage rolls?’

A smile grew warmly on Boris’s face and lit up his dark eyes. He nodded enthusiastically and Valery smiled back. A plan had formed in his mind indeed.

Later that night, when the moon had just slowly begun its ascent into the sky, Valery’s eyes snapped open as he heard the man downstairs begin to toss and turn. But this time, Valery rose quietly and moved towards the stairs. His body no longer hurt with every movement, his legs and ribs were stronger and surer of themselves. Valery crept down the stairs and stood a few meters away from Boris, who had begun to spit out foreign Ukrainian words in his sleep.

Valery inched forward and gently placed his hand atop of Boris’s bunched one, wary, for his throat hurt or a few days after waking Boris so suddenly. Boris kept tossing, sweat beading on his brow. The professor sat down on the floor like a child next to the man, keeping his hand resting on Boris’s and he began to speak. He only knew a few words in Ukrainian, and handful or so where he could recognise them in everyday conversation.

‘Все добре’ Valery said softly. A mother said this to her crying daughter so many years ago, a colleague told him what she was saying.

‘Я тут для вас.’

‘ти в безпеці зі мною.’ Valery repeated those three lines over and over again, his hand gently stroking the top of Boris’s. Nothing changed for a while, Boris still tossed and muttered with a face stricken with unseen horrors. Until in small amounts, his mutterings grew less desperate, less violent, his body shook less and eventually he was still and curled in a foetal position.

‘Все добре.’

‘це є’ Boris replied. Valery glanced down and one of Boris’s silver eyes was looking back, glossy, his pupils huge. ‘You speak my language?’

‘I don’t, not really’ Valery said. ‘But your mother did.’

Boris smiled and his hand clenched under Valery’s then relaxed and rolled, it was gently that he flossed his fingers through Valery’s and held it there. The apparatchik’s fingers wove with the professor’s, binding them together as he pulled it closer to his chest. Valery’s heart drummed and a queer warm feeling pooled in his belly and throat. He placed his bandaged hand against Boris’s forearm, wide and strong. He waited for Boris to let go to send him on his way.

He didn’t. 

* * *

Soon nights passed like this, where Boris would begin to suffer and Valery would creep down stairs and gently rouse him, like the slow rising of the sun. One night, Valery held his hand again and started to speak the few words in Ukrainian that he knew, even if it didn’t make total sense. The hand under his flexed and Valery glanced down to see Boris watching him.

‘You are not pronouncing it right.’

Valery stared. ‘What do you mean I’m not pronouncing it right?! Russian and Ukrainian are sister languages!’

‘More like cousin languages honestly’ Boris said and rolled on his side towards Valery.

‘No, they are very similar!’

‘No, they are not’ Boris frowned.

‘Yes they are!’

‘Professor Legasov, are you a linguistics teacher or a chemist?’

‘Well I’m more than a simple chemist- ‘

‘Because take it from me, a Ukrainian’ Boris started. ‘My language is more related to Polish then Russian.’

‘But I’ve met hundreds of Ukrainians and the language is so similar to mine!’

‘Similar is not the same and doesn’t excuse the fact that you mispronounced chicken.’

‘…What I said means “chicken”?’

‘Yes and chicken – курка, is pronounced “koo-ree-ka” and not “kur-ika”’ Boris seemed mighty pleased in his brief lecture to the esteemed professor.

‘Well then’ Valery huffed, ‘I may just keep saying it just as I am. It certainly wakes you up quicker!’

Boris laughed a great booming laugh that echoed in the house and Valery scowled at him, but it only seemed to make Boris cackle more. ‘Oh please stop scowling, it isn’t half as menacing without your glasses!’

Valery angrily thwacked Boris’s shoulder, a grand threat and expression of violence from the normally shy professor, but that just seemed to make Boris laugh more. Valery exploded into a blasting argument stating that, _“I am doing very well for never knowing the language” _and _“Certain people should appreciate the effort!” _and other such points. Neither men realised that that they were still holding each-others hand.

* * *

Valery was once again sitting in the sun reading a very large book on some fantastical adventure as Boris was shovelling some dense clay soil away from the flower beds. ‘Look out for the pansies!’ Valery called.

Boris swung the spade over his shoulder, spraying wet clay onto the steps, a few clumps landing on his pant legs.

‘Hey!’

‘Russian child!’ a familiar voice called, and Gran Gran came bumbling around the corner. ‘Look what I found in the… Were you playing in the mud again?’

‘I most certainly was not!’ Valery exclaimed

‘He was’ Boris yelled over his shoulder.

‘Young man come here please!’ Gran Gran called and waved urgently at Boris. Boris is not one to be ordered around, by anyone he deems inferior to him. And yet when Babushka asked, he just sighed, swung the spade over his shoulder as he sauntered over to the two of them.

‘What is that Babushka?’ Boris asked and pointed to a brown wrapped parcel no wider than a hand and thinnish that sat in Gran Gran’s hand.

‘This is for you’ Gran Gran said and passed the object to Valery.

Puzzled, Valery held the object and weighed it in his hands warily. ‘Gran Gran, you didn’t have to get me anything’ he said.

‘Oh hush and open it!’ Gran Gran said excitedly.

Valery drummed his fingers against the parchment nervously and peered at both Gran Gran and Boris. They were staring at him expectantly. ‘Well can you both not stare at me like that?!’

‘Valera, if you do not hurry up, I will open that myself’ Boris swung the spade, driving the point into the soft soil and leaned on it.

‘Oh you won’t.’

‘Hmm, okay’ Boris made to walk forward to grab the parcel, but Valery pulled it away desperately.

‘Boris- ‘

‘Child if you do not open it now I will get angry!’ Gran Gran threatened. ‘And you!’ she turned to Boris. ‘Leave him be!’ Boris made a “humph” noise but went back to lean on his spade.

‘Pff, there is no politeness around here’ Valery puffed and tentatively fingered the string. It fell off the parcel in seconds and soon the brown paper with it. There was a smooth wooden container sitting neatly in his hands.

‘Open it, open it!’

So he did. The insides were a soft green velvet and the edges of the rims had beautiful little carvings marking them, but the contents were absolutely amazing. ‘Glasses!’ Valery exclaimed. ‘How-Where did you get these?!’ they weren’t like his old ones at all. Where his old-ones were chunky with heavy brown rims and lenses thick enough to stop a bullet, these ones were smaller, thinner, still slightly rounded with black frames pointed at the tips. They were so modern it was almost fashionable.

‘Town child, in town, now hurry up and put them on!’

Valery swallowed and excitedly unfolded the arms, sleek and glossy under his fingers. _This probably isn’t prescription, I doubt I will even see any better, it shouldn’t get my hopes up- _Valery slid them on. Shapes, textures, the leaves in the trees the tiniest details popped suddenly almost jarringly. Valery was stunned, he didn’t realise how long it was since he could see _properly_. ‘Oh my…’ Valery said.

‘Well Valery, can you see out of those?’ Boris asked.

Valery was grinning madly and turned to Boris, where all the muscles in his face froze and his breath faltered. Every familiar detail was warm and oh so welcome, the silver at the very edges of temples, the lines around his eyes and the creases close to his lips, smile lines. Yet it was his every unfamiliar detail that shone radiant in the warm sun and unfamiliar sky. There was dirt smudged on his cheek, his hair was tousled from hard work. There was hardness to his hands that Valery has felt yet know he sees and is surprised that there can be gentleness found there too. Never has he been so unkept, as he leans against a spade, his boots covered in dirt and him himself in a t-shirt. A _t-shirt!_ Yet even then Valery sees what hasn’t be seen before. Long arms, strong arms where he can see strength and nimbleness tight with sinew and muscle, dotted with peculiar scars. Most like tight and puckered marks. _Bullets_ he thought.

‘Yes…Yes I can see very well with these.’

Something changed in Boris’s face and a peculiar expression played across it, one that Valery could see all too well. _Oh no_, Valery looked away quickly, too quick and at Gran Gran who was giving him an all to different look. _Stop being so obvious_ it said. ‘Well good’, she finally said. ‘I could hear you tripping around here from _my _house, disturbing the peace pah’ she walked up the steps and tweaked his cheek. ‘Be a dear a get me some water please?’

Valery nodded and quickly hurried to his feet, his book tumbling to the wooden planks he sat on. Unlike his character he left it there and hurried into the house, the wooden box still firm in his grasp. He stumbled into the kitchen, his hands shaking and his temples drumming. ‘Too obvious, he could’ve…Dammit that was well to obvious’ He hissed at himself and slapped his hand upside his head. Water trickled into the lovely glass loudly and he stared at it, wishing that this was nothing, that this loudness would drum out his foolishness and his mistake. He stared at it until the water overflowed into the sink.

_Can’t stay too long, being absent makes things worse,_ Valery thought and reluctantly pulled the tap off. The glass was moist in his hands, but was it his hands or the water? Still he quietly crept back towards the back door and witnessed something peculiar.

Gran Gran was talking in low voices to Boris, her hand covering his. If Valery wasn’t so… scared of this interaction it would almost be comical how Boris towered over her. She said something ‘…For him…you would be surprised where his attentions lie.’

A look swept over Boris, one Valery could almost call relief and happiness. Valery didn’t know what to make of it.

* * *

Valery was speaking to Boris again, in the darkness of the night. It was soft words and Valery soon couldn’t tell what he was saying as his mind, numb without sleep drifted off into a lucid state. He may have stopped speaking, and stared off until for once, another hand reached out to him.

‘It is nice to see you, professor’ Boris said, his fingers drifting around Valery’s sleeve.

‘It think that is what I am supposed to say’ Valery replied easily with a small smile.

Boris studied him for a moment. ‘You should go back to bed, you look exhausted.’

‘I’m quite alright, you know the saying “sleep is for the dead”’ Valery laughed at his joke yet Boris did not join in.

‘Then I must be a ghost to you even now, disturbing your rest with my unrest.’

‘Never a disturbance Borja, always welcome to me.’

‘Then stay’ he said quickly. Valery stared at him, his heart accelerating. ‘If it is any easier, stay down here…With me.’ Silence returned to the house, the question that wasn’t a question hanging unanswered and tense in the air. ‘But there is a nice bed upstairs, never mind what I said- ‘

‘I’ll stay’ Valery said quickly. ‘I’ll stay down here.’

Boris smiled, warm and genuine. Valery sat on the other couch and began to lie down. It was easier, this way…after all.

* * *

Valery was in the garden, his knees deep into the soil, toiling with deep purple blooms that he tried to gently fix into their place. They were delicate things, _so much care for such a small thing_, he thought, his tongue sticking out as he concentrated on caring for the delicate stems. There was no purple on Valery anymore. The bruises that littered his body had now faded into his usual paleness, Valery had examined himself deeply in the mirror with his new glasses. He had changed. His hair was longer, his body less soft, his hands finally with calluses that did not belong to the pen building on them. He felt better, lived better. He was happier than ever.

A pair of knees landed into the dirt next to him. ‘Are those?’ Boris asked.

‘Irises’ Valery looked at the man with a smile. ‘Frightfully tricky things to care for, but they are beautiful.’

Boris looked down at him with soothing bright and warm burning in his eyes. ‘Where…Why those flowers.’

‘You said something earlier…’ Valery began shyly. ‘That your mother had these in your garden. It seemed important too.’ Boris was silent and Valery looked back at the wonderful flowers sitting lopsided in their patch of earth. ‘I don’t want to seem presumptuous, but you are here too, there deserves to be a spot for you.’

‘For me’ Boris said and Valery looked back at him. A hand touched his face, touched the back of his neck. Valery couldn’t blink, and he couldn’t breathe by himself as Boris leaned down and stole any right to that as he pressed his lips against Valery’s. _For you, for you, for you_, Valery thought as Boris held him, his lips softer then any feather, petal or silk in the world with his stubble chaffing against his chin. But it ended. Boris pulled apart quickly, his breath coming fast his eyes pin pricks.

‘I’m- shit, why did-?!’ Boris began and made to stand, to go and leave Valery kneeling in the dirt alone.

_No,_ he thought. The delicate thing in his chest hammered, _don’t you go, don’t you dare _it said. His hand grabbed Boris’s, they were now well acquainted, he pulled him back with a desperateness that was foreign and wild as was his kiss. He waited for a shove, a move of anger or revulsion. His lips softened, his nose brushed against Valery’s soft and gentle. Valery couldn’t breathe by himself. He didn’t want to anymore. Not if it meant breathing without him. His lips were soft. His kiss softened and Boris held him tighter. _Oh God, I think I love you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:  
Valery: Hmm all these romantic gestures I'm subconciously displaying surely wont have any significant reprocussions. And postive ones?!?!?!
> 
> Valery exe has stopped working.
> 
> Boris: It's LeviOsa, not LevioSA
> 
> I really hope I wrote that last part well.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, I...I don't know what to say about this chapter.

There is very few times in Valery’s life where the world stopped being so important, where it all just fell away from him leaving behind just the bones, exposed and vulnerable. Not all were pleasant. The day his father died where the last conversation was of mutual anger, grief disappointment, where was his grandchildren? Where is his son’s wife? Another occasion, and frankly worse, was the words _“it’s not 3 roentgen, it’s 15,000” _and, _“why worry about something that is never going to happen?”_

There is times that Valery felt unbridled happiness that stripped away the weight of the world: When he was formally called professor Legasov the first time, when he found his old cat Sasha, becoming one of the most esteemed scientists of his time…Before Chernobyl anyway.

None of that held a candle to this.

They moved slowly as if to ration all tastes and touches. Boris tilted his face bringing this dance deeper and it moved all the slower, his nose brushing against Valery’s cheek, his warm breath rushing around his eye lashes. In turn, Valery’s hands who forgot the dirt that was buried into his skin and under his nails, passed in and through his thick dark hair tugging it gently. It was wonderful.

Until he made a noise.

Valery hummed gently, allowing the barest vocalisation of his happiness and Boris froze. Valery stopped moving immediately, couldn’t stop the little noise of fright as Boris pushed himself away. All was silent except the cicadas singing along with the birds in the sky. Valery looked down at his knees, then to the side of him where the irises lay half potted in their spots of earth. Boris rubbed his mouth and the sound of it rang in Valery’s ears.

‘Boris- ‘Valery began.

‘No’ he started. ‘No be quiet, I need to think- ‘

Valery’s pride flinched at the lashing. ‘What do you mean be quiet?!’ he demanded, ‘You can’t just… ‘he trailed off. _What are you doing, why did you push me away? _The little thing that was beating happily inside of him was now frozen into stone. ‘You can’t just do _that _and- and then push me away when _you _started _this_!’

‘I started this?’ Boris said harshly. Valery looked up and briefly glimpsed the turmoil in his eyes before Boris looked away. ‘Jesus Christ Valera, you did- ‘he cut himself off with an angry move of his hands and stood up. ‘I…I need to think about a few things’ he began to walk away.

‘Boris.’ He walked away further and further, but he took Valery’s heart cold in his hands.

‘Borja!’

He stopped for a moment but didn’t look back. ‘Don’t just… I need to know.’ _I need to know why you did that._

Boris said nothing and left Valery in the dirt of the garden. He stared and stared at the spot in the garden where Boris’s knees had pressed into grass and soil, the impressions still there. He stayed and waited foolishly, naively that he would return like he always did. After every argument in Chernobyl he _always_ came back, always helped him, defended him from chairmen, Gorbachev, the KGB right until he couldn’t. Valery waited and he didn’t come back.

After maybe hours, Valery stood awkwardly, his legs numb and unsteady. He didn’t bother brushing the dirt off as he walked to the steps of the veranda, dropping heavily into them. _Please come back…Tell me why, why did you do _that_? Why did you that, why did you do that, whydidyoudothat, whydidyoudothatwhydidyou-_

His hands hurt. He looked down at his nails digging deeply into his flesh, right into the dark pink tissue scar on his left hand. His heart beat frantically and sweat beaded at the nape of his neck. He couldn’t breathe. _Boris…_ His heart jumped up and down erratically, his lungs refusing to work properly. He tried to breathe but it hurt. _What did you do?_ A nasty little voice shouted at him. _You little parasite. Feeding off every gram, every molecule of attention someone gives you. You made him leave. What did you do?_ The voice sounded like his father.

‘Shut up, shut up, shut up’ he hissed. His nails dug deeper into his flesh. Blood beaded. He couldn’t breathe. ‘He did that, he did that. I didn’t I wouldn’t have.’

_You would’ve._

‘Shut up!’

‘Child?’

Valery’s head snapped up violently. Gran Gran stood a few meters away, her mouth gaped and eyes wide.

‘Why are you crying?’

It was then that Valery felt the hot tears falling off his face, into his shirt. They burned, they burned like his lungs. A guttural noise keened from his throat and Gran Gran rushed forward.

‘What happened child, what’s wrong?’ she asked, her old hands gently touching his hands, his face. Valery shook his head the words wouldn’t come.

‘Valery’ she said softly. It was the first time she said his name. His heart jumped and he opened his mouth a great just of air ripped into his lungs.

‘He left’ he hissed. ‘It happened and he left.’

‘What happened? Why did Boris leave?’

His name ripped into what was left of Valery’s frozen heart and Valery cried. He cried earnestly for the first time in years. Gran Gran pulled him in, his head resting on her shoulder. She whispered something in Spanish and pressed her face into his hair holding him with the strength of Atlas.

* * * 

The sun was setting when he finally looked up from her small shoulder. He hadn’t come back. He breathed deeply in and out. It still hurt, it hurt so badly. Gran Gran touched his face and removed the glasses that were tear stained and crooked. She sat on the stair next to him and from her dress pocket she pulled a cotton cloth so thin that the failing light seeped through it. She rubbed them gently and said nothing.

That secret that sat like a mountain on Valery’s cold heart was broken and crumbled. The truth was pulled from his lips by Boris’s own, even if it wasn’t said. It was acted on. He plucked a fragment of it and tasted it in his mouth.

‘We were in the garden, I was planting irises for him’ he croaked.

Gran Gran nodded and continued cleaning the glasses she gifted to him.

‘I’ve been helping him, like I should’ve earlier, like you said I should. It was working you know?’

‘I understand’ Gran Gran said softly. She placed the glasses on her lap and slipped her hand into his own. _She knows, she won’t care._

‘It was because of his mother, you see…I-I knew how important she was to him. She had irises so I wanted to have a little bit of her, a little bit of _him_ in the garden. And he-he…’ Valery pressed his face into his hand unable to finish his sentence. A phantom sensation passes over his lips, of warm soft ones touching his own. Of breath around his eyelashes.

‘He didn’t like that?’ Gran Gran asked.

‘No, yes. I don’t know.’

‘What happened next?’

A chunk of the mountain fell into his mouth, it tasted like ash. ‘He…He kissed me’ the sentence gusted out of him so softly it was almost mute. Gran Gran said nothing, and Valery turned slightly to see her staring at him with wide eyes. ‘And I kissed him back.’

_Parasite._

Valery shook his head forcing the voice away. ‘I don’t know…what he wanted. I don’t know if he meant to do that’ _he held me closer, he kissed me deeper. _‘but I did something. I must’ve done something wrong. He just pushed me away…And-and he left.’

Gran Gran was silent, and Valery felt himself shrink under silence’s weight. Then she moved. She moved with the suddenness of a storm, fury shaking her hands like it was the earth rupturing forth from her. God would fear such wrath.

‘WHERE IS THAT MAN, I’M GOING TO GET MY BROOM AND RUIN HIM. HOW DARE HE, WHAT ABSOLUTE NERVE- ‘

‘Gran Gran please’ Valery spun and held her hand gently with his own. ‘Please, he didn’t know.’

‘DIDN’T KNOW WHAT?!’

‘How I feel. He doesn’t know at all.’

Breath hissed out of her nose eerily like a dragon. ‘If a man did that to me, I would take my chancla and I would knock him silly with it!’

Valery didn’t know what a chancla is or how to use it, but it mildly scared him. ‘I know, I know’ he said. ‘I just don’t know what to do…’

Gran Gran sighed, her hand pulled away from Valery’s and propped herself on the steps behind her. ‘You may not know what to do, but what do you want from him, despite what has happened.’

‘I want’ Valery paused in thought. It was too easy to think of all bad things that have happened between the two, Valery looked at his hand and remembered the way Boris folded his fingers through his own. He remembers the press of his forehead on his, the weight of arms binding him tightly. _He kissed me, and he kissed me back. _‘I want to be happy. And it’s easy with him.’

‘I think you also deserve to be angry, Valery child’ Gran Gran said. ‘Be happy, find love wherever it grows. But don’t let him forget what he did, the state I found you in…’ Gran Gran muttered. ‘I’m still going to hit him next time I see him!’

A small laugh escaped Valery at that, the concept of sweet little Babushka hitting a man over 6ft was entertaining, but he didn’t doubt her for a second.

* * *

For the first time since Valery’s arrival in this place clouds were brewing in a thick dark blanket on the horizon. Gran Gran, equally surprised at the grim dark wall said her goodbyes with a quick kiss on the cheek. ‘I’m always near by child if you need anything.’

Valery walked back inside, digging his fingers into his eyes wearily, he felt exhaustion down into his bones and his hand placed itself onto the couch, clutching the leather. The couch. He looked down at it, there where the blankets lay, there where a singular pillow remained. His finger idly drifted over it and his eyes landed on the spot where he would sit next to him.

_“Jesus Christ Valera, you did- “_

Valery sat in the couch, his hands taking the pillow, placing it on his lap. ‘What did I do’ he muttered. ‘What did I do besides help you?’

_“You also deserve to be angry”_

_He kissed me and left me in the dirt, after everything. He did this_. Valery’s fingers bunched deep into the pillow, his teeth gritted angrily. ‘He is not coming back.’ It was a finality. Valery began to methodically pick up the blankets, folding them with a neatness that he usually lacks and placed them into a closet by the stairs. The door seemed to echo, and silence settled back into his home. _It is a home now then_. It wasn’t before, what has changed that? The answer is clear, it is part of the ruined mountain sitting on his heart. People made it a home. That dingy little flat the KGB moved him into never, ever became a home, even with his things even with Sasha. This was different. It wasn’t asked, just like the place he spent his remaining years, and yet it became a home because of _him_.

Valery walked back into the lounge, by the couch, next to the pillow was that nice brown leather bag that Boris had dumped on the veranda a long time ago. _He isn’t coming back_. Valery felt hollow, a nasty ache settling into his chest. _Very well then._

He picked up the bag, not looking at it, not even trying to feel it. He left his home, the door closing quietly. _He isn’t coming back, so I won’t keep it. _He walked to Boris’s house, slowly, numbly, his face still, his chest felt like fragile hollow glass. A breath may shatter it. The wind howled scattering leaves in the air. Valery only just noticed that they were starting to turn red, leaching all green away. The bag was heavy and cold, but he stayed and stared at Boris’s house, watching for anything.

Leaves were scattered on the steps, Valery could see the dust fogging the windows, in the dark gray sky the house almost looked like an old man. He stepped to the door and touched the handle. His hand took away a layer of dust and grime. _He isn’t here,_ Valery thought, looking at his hand. Reason told him to just dump the bag to the floor and leave. He turned, bag still in hand and his feet paced slowly away to the back of the house. The path was still there, the path to the sea. _I shouldn’t go_.

He did.

* * *

Wind made the trees stretch their branches high and low, little points and tendrils whipping in the air catching on Valery’s clothes and the bag. _If he is there, I will just drop the bag and go._ Part of him hoped he would be there, another despised it with a building anxiety that Valery was trying desperately to ignore. Even if he wasn’t there, he would still leave the bag on the ground.

He walked and tried not to remember Boris holding him close as they walked through the trees, how he said he wouldn’t let him fall. It hurt and added to the weight in his chest like a lode-stone. Some part of him wished he was here right now, an arm around his shoulder, his voice rumbling in his ear. _If I could take back the kiss I would,_ the thought pounced in his mind and it hurt, god it hurt. But it was true.

The air smelled of salt and soon the trees parted allowing wind to gust through the oak and fir grinding and growling in anger. Valery could see the ocean, and it was boiling with swells and white caps crashing into the cliff with thunderous slaps. And he was there, of course he was there.

Just like before he was sitting on the cliff, his back to him and head bowed. Valery stared at him for a moment, _I’m not seen I could just leave now_…_ No. _Valery sighed and tossed the bag to the ground heavily. His mind was made up. _“You_ _deserve to be angry”_ …_So be it._

Boris jolted at the noise of the impact and spun around, his eyes widened when he saw Valery, yet his jaw clenched and said nothing.

‘You forgot this on your way out’ Valery said.

Boris remained silent, staring at the bag, his eyes dark and hands clenched. Valery waited a few moments, but Boris refused to say a word. Both were resolute in their silence, just as the cliffs are to the sea.

‘…Well?’ Valery finally spoke.

‘Well what?’ Boris said lowly.

‘You know very well what.’ Boris popped his jaw but said nothing, refusing to make even basic eye contact. ‘I never expected this…this immaturity from you.’

‘Immaturity?!’

‘Yes immaturity! You’re sulking like a child and running away from _what happened_. You started It!’ Valery’s voice rose with every word.

‘Oh that’s absolute bullshit and you know it!’ Boris roared, suddenly on his feet.

‘What did I do then?! What did I do except try to be your friend and help you?! Like I have always done! For god sakes I forgot you can be like this, angry and petulant like a child whenever someone, anyone, does something you don’t like!’ Valery shouted.

‘What damnable facts is that based off?! When we were in Chernobyl and the fucking world was against us?! Fighting us, spying on us, humiliating us, and that’s where you get these- these’ he stepped closer, his hands gesturing wildly. ‘Fantastical facts?! Of course I got angry, it was the only thing that would get shit done! It certainly wasn’t your fucking approach!’

‘Oh I damn well got angry!’ Valery shouted back.

‘You disobeyed and threatened the KGB, you repeatedly spoke down to the _General Secretary_!’ Boris stepped closer. ‘It was me that always cleaned up your damn mistakes, because if I didn’t you would be dead! Dead long before you fucking killed yourself!’

Valery stumbled back like he was struck across the face. ‘No one else…’ Valery’s voice lost all power in it; his hands were beginning to shake again. ‘No one else could do what I did. No one else could make those tapes, expose the truth! Everyone was too scared.’

‘No one else had nothing to lose! Of course everyone else was scared.’

Valery stared at Boris, the grey of the sky rolling darker and colder until it was a weight on him like an oppressive anvil. _Nothing to lose? That isn’t true, that isn’t true at all…_ ‘I didn’t have nothing to lose.’

‘Oh please enlighten me then, professor Legasov’ Boris growled his bright eyes as dark as the sky above and furrowed with wrath. ‘What did you have of value, who did you have?!’

‘I had…’ _Knees in the dirt. Irises in the soil. Your hands, your lips. _‘I had you.’

Boris stared at Valery, confusion drawing his features. ‘…What?’

‘God, do you think my life was so easy?’ Valery laughed but it croaked in his throat like a crow. The secret on his heart, the broken mountain was crumbling to dust. For once, Valery allowed his mouth, his tongue to form the weight of his heart. ‘Yes, I didn’t fight in an awful fucking war, yes I didn’t have to watch men drag thousands of people from the earth and put them in body bags. Chernobyl was the one time in my life I was terrified that I was going to die. It was the one time I put men in the ground.’ Valery stared at Boris, willing him, _begging_ him to understand.

‘But you…You didn’t have no one. You had friends, you had a family, and that makes it all the worse. Because, I don’t love women Boris’ Valery said. ‘I don’t think I ever have.’

Boris stared at him, his eyes wide, his hands slackened.

‘I could never, ever let anyone know. And look at me, you said it yourself I had no-one, because let’s face it I’m not truly likeable. I made enemies faster than I made friends. If anyone found out, I would’ve been at best put into a labour camp’ Valery’s hands fell at his sides, his chest hollow. He felt like a dead leaf floating in the air. ‘I didn’t have anyone because of what I’m like, and I couldn’t dare to have anyone for who I am. But then that reactor core just exploded and you…’ Valery extended a hand toward Boris, palm turned to the sky. ‘But then you called me. You were rude. You interrupted me all the time, you hung up half way through what I was saying. You looked down at me like every damn bureaucrat looks at scientists. So…So imagine my surprise when you listened to me. When you backed me up me against Bryukhanov, Fomin…’

Valery’s hand dropped to his side and he sighed deeply. _It all doesn’t matter anyway_. ‘I hardly expected a comrade from you Boris, I never expected a friend. And how I feel is-is…’ Valery grasped for the right word, his eyes looking skyward for help. The wind just growled in response.

‘How I feel is more. So much more that I couldn’t even begin without taking another lifetime to search for the right words. And it terrifies me. So don’t you say I didn’t have anything to lose, don’t you ever say it. The day I spoke in that court room was the day I lost you.’

_God what a damn mess,_ Valery thought. His shoulders slumped, exhausted, an uneasy weight suddenly gone and his muscles did not know what to do with themselves. ‘So tell me Boris’ Valery said and finally looked back into the man’s eyes, his face hard and unreadable. ‘What did I do? You kissed me, god knows that I wanted to, but you did it first. What did I do? What made you go away?’

Boris was silent, his eyes flickering to his feet, to Valery again back and forth for an eternity of minutes. He was silent when Valery prayed for answers, begged for words, even if they weren’t happy ones. The mountain was gone from his heart, but his chest was vacant as the cold dark thing was being held in a silent man’s hard hands, and the void of it made Valery’s near weep. His hands shook, he didn’t even try to still them, and Boris remained silent.

‘Boris.’

‘…’

‘Boris, please.’ Valery begged, his voice hoarse with grief.

‘I…I don’t have any answers for you Valera’ Boris said so quietly his voice was near lost to the wind. He was quiet again for a long moment. ‘There is so many things I don’t know, that I do not understand about myself. I need…I need time’ he finally said.

‘…We are dead Boris. Time here is worth the eternity.’

‘I need time all the same. I need it’ Boris sighed, his face sober and full of a sadness that mirrored Valery’s. He turned again, back to the sea in turmoil and sat, with one leg propped on the edge, the other dangling off. Valery stared at his broad back, waiting and waiting, but not with patience but a cruel anxiety that bound his feet to the ground and his tongue to his mouth.

_Tell me_, Valery thought. _Please tell me, I need to know._ Boris was silent. The clouds grew darker and the first spatter of rain hit Valery’s like tiny stings. He waited longer, minutes, hours he doesn’t know, until his hair was wet and glasses fogged.

Without another word, he turned and left between the trees.

* * *

Valery can scarcely remember the walk back, besides the wind pushing at the back of his knees and little instances of rain spattering on his head. Valery detested it. It was like the world was mocking him by raining on the worst day of his life. He didn’t care as he tracked through wet sodden leaves, he didn’t care that fresh mud splattered on the cuffs of his pants. For once he just truly didn’t care.

He tracked the detritus into his home, rubbing the dirt into the wood by mistake as he struggled to remove his shoes. _Even my socks are wet,_ Valery thought numbly and stared at his feet. He then robotically began to tug off the sodden things and tossed them away, not caring where they land.

_“I need time.”_

‘How much time can I give you’ Valery said out-loud. Tears budded in his eyes again, but he shook them away, a grim snarl pulling at his lips. _It truly doesn’t matter does it?_ All victories are tainted in the end. From the lunar rover’s success to Jokers failure. From the hushed deal with the KGB, Valery naively believing he didn’t have to say the truth, that they would keep their word, that the reactor would be replaced. More fool him. And a kiss… the most wonderful one Valery has ever had and even then, it is tainted by the same man who held him close, kissed him deeper, harder.

‘God dammit, nothing gold can stay’ he muttered and walked to the lounge. A pack of cigarettes and a lighter sat on the table. He flopped to the seat and idly plucked one from the pack, snapping the lighter until the cigarette burned red. He couldn’t taste the tabaco, nor could he feel the heat at the back of his throat. Even that has left him

* * *

Valery woke to pounding at the door. He startled up, not noticing how his head was resting on the pillow Boris slept on, nor noticing he was lounging where the man had once slept. The wind howled against the trees and the house, eerily moaning into the dark, for it was so dark outside the whole house was pitch and cold. _Maybe I imagined it_, Valery thought and went to lie back down, to drown his thoughts in the wind and rain.

BANG BANG BANG!

Valery sat up again quickly, his ears alert and heart racing. He stared at the door, not knowing if he wished for it to be silent. There can only be one person behind it.

BANG BANG BANG!

Despite his nerves Valery hurried up, his bare feet clumsily trying to find purchase on the polished ground. He reached the door, and pulled it open almost violently, wind flung itself through his house and Valery closed his eyes as it near froze them into hard stones. A hand touched his, and suddenly, a large presence had stepped into the door way, shielding him from both wind and rain like a watch tower at sea. Valery looked up slightly and it was Boris, of course it was. He was sodden, his dark hair even more pitch, his clothes rumpled and dark. Only his eyes burned bright and hot and Valery found himself lost in them, his tongue bound to his mouth even when he swallowed thickly.

Boris stepped closer a hand touching Valery’s shoulder delicately, almost reverently. ‘I’m sorry, god dammit I’m sorry’ Boris said, his voice gusting like he is out of breath. Valery could only stare, words defying him leaving him mute.

‘I can’t…’ Boris started. ‘I can’t give you the answers you deserve, that you need right now. I can’t, I need time. So I’ve decided what to do’ Boris’s other hand took his shoulders. His voice surer and more confident, and yet still Valery could say nothing.

‘I’m going to go away, I’m going to leave this part of this-this place for a little while. I need time and I won’t find that here, you deserve answers, but I don’t think I can find that here.’

‘Boris.’ Valery finally said, and his voice was rough. _Please don’t go_, he thought, his chest and throat aching. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to go. Please you don’t…you don’t have to go for me. It doesn’t matter what I said- ‘

‘But it does!’ he interrupted, his own voice strangled with turmoil. ‘I’m sorry I can’t answer your questions. But I need to change before I can give you those answers. I need to leave to do that.’

‘But why…?’ Valery asked.

‘Because I am burning Valera’ Boris said, his voice cracking with pain. ‘I’m burning for everything I’ve done, the men I’ve killed, the bodies I’ve seen, the death, all of the horrible death that I just can’t escape. And it is burning me, I couldn’t stop enough of it I couldn’t save enough people. I couldn’t save you!’ Boris face pulled in sorrow. ‘I won’t ask you to help fix me, it isn’t your burden to bear.’

‘I don’t care!’ Valery hissed.

‘But I do. I believe if I change, I can answer some of the questions you asked me…’ Boris finally stopped speaking. The wind howled and rain still peppered Valery’s skin despite the coverage. Boris stared at him breathing deeply and suddenly his hands moved. The touched the back of his head and he was pulled forward where Boris kissed his forehead. His breath was warm and messed the professor’s hair, his mouth was warm. Tears budded in his eyes, but he blinked them away.

‘You don’t have to go…’ Valery muttered. Boris drew away and then touched his forehead to Valery’s. He shuddered, wanting desperately to wrap his arms around him to make him stay forever. _Please stay,_ he thought.

‘I know’ Boris said, ‘I know.’ He held for one moment longer, then another. His hand bunched in Valery’s hair one last time and suddenly he pulled away. Valery didn’t say a word but stared into the man’s bright silver eyes. They were so beautiful.

Then he was gone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one was the most difficult chapter I've ever written. And not in the sense of what Boris or Valery would do but rather what they said. It hurt me to write, I felt it nessecary though. I often found myself walking away from the laptop because it was getting too much. But guys, the story doesn't end here, I felt like this is the natural next step for both of these two, and I hope you agree.
> 
> As always I adore all the support I get, the next chapter will be up soon, I'd say a week. Until next time!!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! So sorry for the long wait, but a long writing time means for a longer chapter. I hope this chapter helps ease the sting of the previous one. It was challenging but I'm pretty happy with the end result. As always the comments and kudos are amazing guys, I couldn't do this without you.
> 
> A brief synopsis: Valery tries to live life without Boris but receives some mail. Gran Gran discovers a lost loved one.

There are rules to life, inescapable and binding. The wind shall always break against the trees, the trees will always dig deep into earth and rock. Water shall drip from the highest mountain and fill the deepest sea, and ice, though a fickle thing will grow cold eventually. Such is the same for Valery Legasov, his mind a tool, excavating the truth, knowing the lies. It was the rule of his life, bound and etched into his bones.

_“I need time, but I won’t find that here, you deserve answers, but I don’t think I can find that here”, _there was no lie to this. In the wind, breaking against the house and trees, in the rain driving like bullets into skin and all that lay bare to the land, Valery’s mind found no lies in what Boris said. But he was gone all the same.

‘Please comeback’ Valery said softly. He was gone, there was no one to speak to, but Valery’s heart spoke all the same. ‘I need you here, I need you ...’ His mind could find no lie to his words. Knowing this, he stared out the door, allowing the wind and rain to drive into him. _When will you come back?_ _Will you come back?_ He stayed at the door a little longer, until his feet began to ache from the cold. He had to close it then, he had to turn away. If Boris could, then so could he.

He didn’t sleep in his bed, no, his body fell numbly into the couch, his face buried back into the pillow that he left there. The bed no longer felt right, not after so many nights creeping down stairs to collapse into the couch opposite Boris. Valery breathed deeply and a soft scent filled his nose, it was his of course. His fingers dug deeper into the cloth and for a moment he allowed himself to believe that it was _him_ right here, his arms close and Valery’s face pressed into his shoulder and neck. It is a strange thing smells, the pillow smelt like Boris would be warm. It smelt like someone who values cleanliness, values presentation. _I wonder if that is because of the trenches filled with mud and death...Or did you always value those things?_ He smelt soft. When you looked at him you may expect a person who uses strong colognes that were heady and permeated the air, but he smelt soft like clean sheets. He smelt warm like apples in the sun, he smelt gentle like old trees in the morning mist.

He smelt so close. Value thought of all the times he was _close_ to Boris, in each other’s arms, their faces close. When they kissed. _Damn fool…You God damned fool, _he didn’t know to whom his thoughts were directed at. Valery stared off into the night and always at the front door, barely daring to hope that it will open, and he will come back, that he will knock again. He did not sleep at all that night and when the sun rose after the strange amount of time in this world passed, he had not moved once.

He did not sleep for many nights to follow.

* * *

Valery was on his knees, his hands were plunging into the dirt, tearing out the weeds with a fury and determination of any angry gardener. A red oak leaf fluttered to the ground, idly tapping the top of Valery’s head before landing by his knee. He stopped, the weeds still in his hands and stared at the dying thing, all burnt with a flare of bright orange around the main vein. _It is dying, all the leaves are dying. _He looked up at the forest beside him, all the leaves looked like bloody severed hands shivering in the wind. He looked back at his garden and sighed deeply, regret filling his heart. Even the flowers, tulips, pansies, the lot were beginning to wilt in the wind and unforgiving cold. It was all dying. He looked at the irises, half potted, their bright purple petals beginning to wither. _What was even the point?_

Footsteps crunched on the ground and he spun around instantly hardly daring to hope…But it wasn’t him, it couldn’t be. Gran Gran bumbled towards him slower than usual as she had wrapped herself up in a little cocoon of clothes against the biting wind and encroaching chill. _She really looks like a babushka doll now…_

‘Child, what are you doing in the cold like that?’ Gran Gran said and knelt next to Valery. She touched his shirt idly and tutted, much too thin for her liking. ‘Aren’t you freezing?’

Valery attempted a smile, but his lips twisted awkwardly so he quickly abandoned the attempt. ‘I am Russian, Babushka, I’ve seen worse weather than this.’

Gran Gran snorted at his arrogance. She looked down, her eyes catching the leaf sitting idly in Valery’s hand. She reached over and inspected it herself, her wrinkled fingertips crunching the thin edges. ‘…Boris is gone, isn’t he?’, she looked over, concern pinching her eyes.

‘…Yes’ Valery muttered and once more began pulling out weeds.

‘Child?’

Valery ignored her and kept pulling the shoots from the earth.

‘Valery’ Gran Gran placed a hand over his and stilled all movements. Valery stared at their hands, unable to say anything. ‘What happened?’

‘He left…He said he needs time, he need to think. So he left’ Valery’s voice sounded hollow even to his ears.

‘You told him? You told him everything?’

‘Everything that I knew how to say’ Valery said. ‘He said he would be back. He said he would come back.’ _He has to, he must._

‘I know child, I know…’ she touched his hand again gently. But how could she know? Valery sighed and went back to work. His eyes drifted towards the irises, his heart drifted towards the kiss. _If that is the first kiss and the last kiss, then this place is neither heaven nor hell. _As he thought a withered petal fell from the flower’s head. Later that day Valery removed the irises and placed them back into their garden pots. They were dying but his heart withered a little more at the thought of throwing them away.

* * *

Valery and Babushka were walking back from the market, a loaded basket tucked under Valery’s arm. The fresh produce vendor smiled at him and nodded, she said something in Ukrainian and smiled again. Valery weakly smiled back, not knowing what it was that she said but grateful for the good will all the same. After the skirmish in the market square all that time ago, Valery began to be treated with respect from all Soviet people there. Less and less was he given hateful glares and soon, people were beginning to say hello, allow trade to open between him and the Soviet people. (Even if all Valery could trade in was flowers and theoretical science. Both relatively useless at the moment). All other people, the Israeli, the Norwegian, the New Zealander’s and people from all countries and creeds treated him the same as before. Like a person.

Valery allowed Gran Gran to take his arm as they walked back to the house. He smiled a little bit though his heart wasn’t with it. She helped, she truly did, but Valery’s house was beginning to grow more silent with each passing day. The thing, the person, that made it home is beginning to take it away with him.

‘I’ll cook dinner for you tonight.’

‘Gran Gran it’s okay, I can cook for myself- ‘

‘I said, I am cooking for you tonight!’

Valery sighed but nodded, his arm gently squeezing gran gran’s hand. ‘Thank you.’

‘Child?’

‘Hmm?’

‘…You have mail?’ Gran Gran pointed at Valery’s mail box in the distance. Valery’s eyebrows rose in surprise as he too saw the red little flag sticking up from the side. _I haven’t had mail since the newsprint…_

‘Ah, okay I will look at it once we get your groceries inside.’

‘No child, mail is rare, open it now!’ Gran Gran said excitedly. Her eyes were lit up and Valery couldn’t help but think she looked like one of those little kids staring at a Christmas display with glossy eyes and rosy cheeks. It was rather endearing. Valery put down the basket and opened his hands in a peaceful gesture before approaching the letter box. The red flag flopped down as Valery popped open the little door to the box. Inside there was a large tightly bound parcel wrapped in brown paper and string. It looked heavy. And it was as Valery pulled it out and tested its weight in his hands. He tried to feel interested or excited as he inspected the parcel, but the cavity in his chest could only remember such feelings.

‘Well go on! Open it!’

As commanded, Valery picked off the string and shucked off all the brown paper, meticulously creased to the perfect dimensions of the thing it his hands. Black leather dully reflected the watery sunlight and the professor’s lips parted as he stared at the massive book that sat in his hands.

_“A Comprehensive Dictionary of the Russian Language to Modern Ukrainian, Including Pronunciation and Etymology.”_

‘Is that a dictionary?’ Gran Gran asked.

‘Yes…yes, it is’ Valery paused, his heart hammering in his chest. _Could he have…_ Valery swallowed nervously. Would it be too much to hope that this was from him? Or was it some gift from the strange things that govern this place?

‘But why a dictionary, it seems strange to get one…’ Gran Gran trailed off as Valery opened the front cover and a small piece of paper fluttered to the ground. Valery immediately crouched and pinched the paper, clutching the book to his chest. Gran Gran shifted her feet but otherwise waited with growing impatience. The paper was fine and dark ink could be seen through the other side in splotches and stains. He stood and immediately unfolded the page. The writing was flowing and neat. Not at all like the quick scribbles he was handed in Chernobyl, but still it was his all the same.

_‘For all the words you need a life time to say.’_

Valery felt his breath freeze and his fingers dig into the leather cover, his eyes were stinging and for once a tiny bud of hope germinated in his chest. So tiny Valery scarcely believed it was there. ‘Its from him! Its from him!’ he said softly. For the first time in weeks, he smiled. 

* * *

Valery woke after his brief sleep to a garden covered in frost. The green of the grass winked in the light, their thin points gleaming like crystals, more leaves had fallen, and the forest now looked like the beginning of a barren fortress. For some reason Valery’s mind travelled to his history books, of the forest of the dead where Vlad the third would spear his victims into the earth. His flowers were gone, dead or removed, the garden was now barren and empty like his home. _Well, at least it isn’t wild like I found it,_ he thought glumly. For the first time since arriving, Valery crudely cut some wood from a fallen branch and set a fire in the deep fire place that dominated the lounge. It was a pretty depressing fire, small with barely breathing flames, the large stacks of wood stacked neatly above it not even catching. Still Valery hunkered down next to it and tried to read a book, his dictionary sitting next to him.

He licked his thumb and flicked a page, only half heartedly reading the text. The flames crackled, the only noise whispering in the house. Valery sighed, closing the chapter of the book. Winter always trapped him in boredom, often he would retreat to his labs in the university, or into the library. Very rarely would he socialise with people, looking back he can only remember the last few times he was invited out for drinks was by students. Which wasn’t so odd until it became clear their only intention was seeking academic endorsement from the esteemed professor, hoping spirits would loosen him up for a verbal buttering. He often disappointed them. Still he may have taken one up on their offer right now, nothing defeats tedious boredom like shutting down a young student’s shoddy attempt at a rousing speech.

There was no labs here though, and no advanced library besides his own, and even then, it was mostly filled with novels rather than academic text. _I wonder what you would do to fill the time? _Valery looked at the couch despondently, _I wonder what you are doing now?_

Valery looked back at his book and tried to muster the energy to flip it open again when another sound rushed against the hard wood floors. Valery turned, his brow raised as an envelop skidded a few feet away from the door, a dark green wax seal standing out proudly from the clean white paper. Both brows raised and Valery placed the book on the coffee table, right next to the newsprint and awkwardly stood up, his socks slipping on the hardwood floor. _A letter?_ Valery reached down and picked up the paper, idly inspecting the wax seal. He turned it over and his heart jolted in his chest. On the back, plain as day was the same elegant writing curling over the paper.

_‘Valera’_ was all it said. Valery immediately jumped towards the door and wrenched it open, his heart in his mouth and his eyes bright with excitement. _Did he- Is he here?! _He thought, but before he was disappointed, he was dumbfounded as there was absolutely no one outside, there wasn’t even any footprints disturbing the gravel path, or a single soul down either side of the street. Valery waited a few more moments and disappointment sat heavily in his chest, he closed the door with a sigh and looked back at the letter in hand. It made him smile a little bit and he hastily broke the seal as he scampered back towards the fire place.

He unfolded the parchment in his hands and read the words greedily.

_‘Valera._

_I’m not sure when this letter will reach you or how it will reach you, but I hope that some day soon you will have it in your hands. I’ve have been traveling for a while now, I cannot say how long because you <strike>once again</strike> are right, nights and days have passed, that I know, but I cannot honestly say how long. Perhaps you will know and can tell me. I will be honest with you. I am writing this letter because I was told to. It may have never occurred to me to write to you, but there is a man I met in a town I stumbled into. It’s not wholly different from ours but the people there are…interesting. His name is Javier, but I don’t know why that matters because I doubt you will meet him. He asked what I am doing here, and I did not know what to say except that I need to know myself better than I did. None of the less, this man saw me in my embarrassingly unclean state- (I am not unused to sleeping out doors from my time in the war but that doesn’t mean I like it!) He fed me food very much like Gran Gran’s, and then asked me to stay for a while until I feel ready to leave and continue my trip, it may be soon in all likely hood. _

_I know you well Valera. I know you aren’t the man to be offended by me not considering writing to you, but I doubt you considered writing to me, no? I know you well…That is a fact that I find myself reminding me about, because I do believe it true. But is there things that I do not know? <strike>I can’t stop thinking.</strike> You often sat by my side when I couldn’t cope with my memories, I would bet solid money that you now know more about me than I know about myself.<strike> I can’t tell if that scares</strike>. I feel… I find myself struggling to write this letter. Be honest, I am being told, but how can I be honest when I do not even know what I am trying to say? The more I stare at this damn letter the more agitated I feel, the angrier I become. I would be lying if I said I had not considered what you said to me earlier on the cliff- ‘_

Valery’s heart thudded and his breath became shorter, he continued to read, and he could hear Boris’s voice leaping off the text. It was like he was sitting next to him by the fire, their shoulder’s close, his breath in the professor’s ear.

_‘-I still can’t find the words to answer your question, maybe it is me that needs a lifetime to say something rather than you? But know this, if I am to be honest then this is the only honest thing, I can say that is astutely clear._

_I think of you often. I do not regret my decision to leave but I find myself seeing a flower and thinking of its sibling sitting in your garden. I see a book and I wonder if you have read it before or would such a thing interest you? It snowed a little over here, and I wondered if you smiled at the first few flakes that flew past your nose like I did? Or do you not like winter? <strike>Do you think of me? </strike>I have run out of the few honest thoughts I have. I would like you to write back to me, though you will have to figure out how to deliver the letter, it is Javier that sends mine, and all he told me to do was write your name on the envelope. <strike></strike>_

_ <strike>Don’t let-</strike> _

_I will come back._

_-Boris. _

Valery gaped at the words, re-reading the text over and over again. Emotions overwhelmed him in waves of anxiety, hope, and happiness. ‘He is going to come back…’ Valery whispered and unconsciously held the letter closer to his chest. _He is thinking of me,_ a dopy grin washed over his face and he is grateful that there is no one there to see it. He looked around desperately on his coffee table but found it barren of writing supplies, he then rushed upstairs to his study but only books taunted him. Sighing he slipped the letter back into its envelope and gentle refolded the cover over it. _Gran Gran, she may have some writing goods, and besides…I may have to ask her about Javier once again._

* * *

Gran Gran did have letter writing supplies. Beautiful fountain pens and soft almost velvety paper that she had bought at the market for a whole bolt of handmade lace she wove. Valery had hammered on her door and as soon as she opened, he pressed the letter into her hands. ‘It’s from him!’ She blinked and read the letter in an instant, her mouth fell open half way through and at the end she had tears in her eyes.

‘Ja-Javier?’ she asked her voice trembling.

‘It could be, I don’t know.’

‘Valery come, child come in!’ Gran Gran pulled him through the door and faster than he has ever seen her move she rushed up the stairs and returned moments later with her arms full of writing supplies and the letter. ‘Please!’ she said hoarsely, ‘please ask about him!’

‘I will, I promise I will’ he took her hand and squeezed it once before rushing out the door.

He pushed the door closed with his foot, and for the first time since Boris left, he went into the dinning room, sweeping the thin layer of dust off the table with his arm. His plan more or less ended there. _What do I write him? Dammit I write scientific articles not letters about my feelings!_

_“I am told to be honest”_

‘Be honest…What to be honest about?’ _That I miss you, that I’m lonely? That this house is empty without you in it? _It somehow seemed like a bad idea, but there was some honesties that Valery had stored in his mind and his heart, ones he felt he could say.

_‘Boris- ‘_Valery wrote.

_‘You were right about a few things. I did not consider writing you a letter, one because I don’t write letters in general, so excuse the quality of this one please. Two, well, you said you were going to travel for a bit with no obvious destination in mind, so how you would receive a letter is beyond me. I hope your instructions work, I will try just putting this in my letter box and hope whatever delivers mail will send it to you, beyond that I will have to find other means. Have you heard of Schrodinger’s cat? Perhaps this will be Schrodinger’s letter, I will put the letter away and whether or not it is there is a question that can only be answered by you receiving it or me opening it again and it’s still there.’_

‘Stop talking physics!’ Valery muttered.

_‘However, I am glad you have written, I was concerned <strike>about your safety </strike>about whether you made it to another town, and not stranded in the wilderness and never-ending roads. Especially with winter on its way, which leads me to something you have wrong about me._

_I don’t particularly like winter, it’s cold, the roads get blocked, there is less students (usually) it’s like people’s minds and ambitions freeze with the world. And now with no universities and no labs to hibernate in I am left with my books and a dying garden. Though it hasn’t snowed here yet, I would bet money that it will in a few days. I hope… Dammit I am struggling with this letter also, yet I shall endeavour. Boris I am not lying when I say that you are the person that knows me best in the world, best in my life in fact. I’ve heard the stories of friendships born in war (perhaps you can attest to this?) and to me Chernobyl was a disgusting and terrible war where I felt you were my only stoic companion through it. It still never ceases to amaze me how you helped the people, helped a nation while never flinching at our adversaries. The small amount of bravery I kindled was because a spark of it flew off of yours. I don’t care the consequences, and neither should you, because another thing is factual in what you said. _

_I feel like I know you very well now. You made me brave and yes, I was punished for it but never blame yourself for that. I don’t believe you need to fear what I heard when you struggle in your sleep or when you were haunted by the war and by death. You said it all in Ukrainian and as you have told me with rather too much mirth, I am not very good at understanding or even speaking Ukrainian. That being said I am learning, I received the dictionary in the mail not too long ago, I am trying to learn, but I find myself an embarrassingly slow learner.’_

Valery’s pen faltered a bit, not knowing how to continues as ink dripped off the nib and splattered the creamy white page. _Be honest…_

_‘I want to know you better though. I want to know about the things that make you laugh, I want to know about your daughter, about your family, I want to fill my mind with facts about you, something for me to study over this winter. You want to know things about me? Such a broad topic, where to begin? The very first lecture I hosted some idiot student bumped into me with hot coffee, spilling it all down my nice shirt. Imagine having your very first meeting with all the chairmen representing the Soviet Union with coffee dripping off of your tie! <strike>Not that I can see you looking anything but pristine</strike> I wanted to be a chef when I was young and clumsy, I love cats. I think you are getting the point that I am not a very interesting person._

Valery paused and re-read what he has written. He read it twice over and can’t help feeling that he is prattling on and on about such…Inconsequential, stupid things. _Be honest, take a little chunk of your heart and throw it onto the page_, Gran Gran’s voice said.

_‘I think of you also. I think about whether you are warm, whether you have eaten recently. I see birds, fluttering to-and-fro and think whether you have seen these birds? You tell me you seek answers for my question, and I find myself thinking “do not rush” I will always be here. Whatever you have to say to me I will always be here waiting to hear it. But I hope to see you soon, even if that is hypocritical to what I said above. My door is always open to you Borja._

_My thoughts have run dry, and I’d rather not bore you with small talk except I have a few question to ask you. This man Javier, does he draw? Is he Mexican? I spoke to Gran Gran and she misses her son terribly, if this is him, I would be very grateful to know. Please let him know that I am grateful that he is helping you rather that letting you sleep outdoors (horrible)._

_Please write to me soon._

_-Valery’_

Valery didn’t bother re-reading what he wrote, he was too nervous and instead quickly folded the paper away into a crisp envelop. _Boris_, he wrote on the back. With a swallow he sealed his words, his hopes away and found his way to the mail box. It sat on the dark wood like a beacon. The red flag flicked up and Valery quickly walked away before he could lose his nerve and burn the letter in the fireplace.

The very next day, the professor hurried to the box and pulled the door open. The letter was gone.

* * *

A few days passed and Valery found himself waking each day to run onwards to the mail box, hoping desperately to see that little red flag skywards. For days to continue there was no such rewards, and soon Valery found himself baring witness to those first few snow flakes drifting past his window. He looked out and his heart crumbled at his flowers, once glossy and bright now reduced to limp brown shoots or barren earth. He sighed and turned himself back towards his kitchen when he heard a familiar whisper. An envelope, with the same green wax seal fluttered under his door, resting patiently against the warm wood floors.

Valery stared at it for a moment before hastily getting to his feet and scooping up the letter quickly, it was a matter of moments before the envelope was torn apart and the letter sat in his hands.

_‘- Dear Valera,_

_I am surprised to receive your letter at such haste though strangely relieved, when I handed my first one to Javier, I almost didn’t believe you would get it. Though this place is strange and unfathomable it should come to no shock to me that you did collect it. I found your letter interesting, there was so much to unpack. You first almost step into a lecture about theoretical physics and then again write words that bring me an endless source of comfort. I am once again trying to be as honest as a bureaucrat can be and trying to spill the truth onto this page. Bear no ill-will to this but I find such tasks easier on the page then in person, there is no need for immediate response. Any fault I make or anything that isn’t quite write I can scratch away, and you wouldn’t know any better._

_That also makes saying how I feel easier. There is so many things I have to say in response to your letter. What you say is true about bonds born in war, and make no mistake, Chernobyl was a merciless war where I had fewer allies than in the great war. Despite that I found an ally, a comrade, a friend in you. There is somethings that people who <strike>didn’t</strike> couldn’t serve don’t know. That bonds in war are fine and wonderful things, but oft they do not last. When there is no enemy or no perilous goal to unite people there is little else in normal life that can between comrades at war. They die. I had strong, reliable friendships in war, and they all faded away due to death or the real world swallowing us up. Not with you. At first, I was surprised because I wondered what common ground could be between us that would allow this to continue? That being said there still isn’t much we have in common, yet it is your friendship, your company that makes me feel slightly sane in this place._

_I am surprised that such an esteemed professor is having difficulty learning a simple language that is a close cousin to Russian, it makes me smile considering that. You had no issues speaking in strange codes and numbers concerning chemistry or physics, I would assume that you would take to learning again like a duck would take to water. Nether the less it makes me happy to know you not only received that dictionary but are using it. There is nothing that irritates me more than seeing good resources go to waste. But knowing our time together in Chernobyl that was never really an issue to you was it?_

_My family…It heartens me to hear you mention them, yet I do not have the spirit to speak about them in detail at the moment. We parted on bad terms and that is all I would like to say on the matter except this: My daughter’s name is Katrina, she is tall, lovely and has a quiet wildness about her that brings me no end of pride. I am told she looks like me, but I don’t think that is a rather nice thing to say about a young woman. I have a feeling you would have either loved her or fought wither her every day and knowing you so well and my daughter I couldn’t honestly say who would be the victor of such battles. Though it entertains me to no end imaging them. _

_I am warm Valera. I am warm from the fire I sit next to as I write this, I am warm by the spicy food Javier makes me. You call yourself a not very interesting person, yet I will argue against this ill thought point! Calling you uninteresting is like calling a sunrise uninteresting. I cannot ever say the person who ran after the head of the KGB or the person who interrupts the General Secretary an uninteresting person at all. If that was part of the bravery you collected off me then I feel some pride in knowing that._

_I know you are well. Such as I know you, I cannot help but feel that if you weren’t or something happened, I would know, be it the change in the air or some other unreasonable matter I feel I would know if you were unwell. I must end this here or else I would run out of ink. This is the third attempt of a letter I have made and though I am not completely happy I must mail this letter before it becomes fire fodder. As for Javier, he does in deed draw, and very, very well at that. I asked him of Gran Gran and was so overwhelmed with emotions he couldn’t speak to me for a day. I think it is truthful that he is her son._

_I look forward to your response._

_-Borja’_

_* * *_

So their letters passed back and forth. Valery would read each letter reverently five times over, setting each word to memory, he read them by the fire as always, imagining it was Boris sitting next to him softly saying his words into his ear. He bound all letters in string, setting them back into their envelopes. The very first letter he received, Valery placed one of the iris shoots, now dried, into the envelope with it. To him they were a greater treasure then gold or platinum. Winter was set in its stay, snow would pile up knee high on the grass, and Gran Gran would venture outdoors less and less, though she would come to Valery’s home often. Asking of Javier and re-reading the letters Boris sent, trying to glean more knowledge from them. Valery was once again by the fire when another letter arrived.

_‘- Dear Valera_

_I’ve been thinking of many things, all with you, paramount in mind. There is things I have learned while being away, while staying with Javier. I have learned things about him too that I cannot help but think off you. He is a man of gentle nature, studious and proud all of which is so, so similar to you. He also doesn’t love women.’_

Valery’s heart palpitated and he swallowed nervously before continuing.

_‘I will be honest, I had been more or less avoiding telling him why I have been travelling. But he is persistent. He slowly chipped away at me, to reveal answers about myself. At first, I refused at all to even answer his basic questions, but he is similar in many ways to Gran Gran except more relaxed. Eventually I said your name and there must’ve been a way I said it because soon all his questions were to do with you. Still I refused to answer them for a time, until he asked basic questions, like what you do, what you look like. So I answered those. Later that evening Javier gave me a drawing and you wouldn’t believe my shock when I saw he had perfectly captured you after only a few words from me. <strike>I still have the drawing, I was tempted to send it to you, but I think I will keep it</strike>. _

_He asked me more questions, just one every day, and I would find myself answering, I cannot tell if it’s because of the drawing or because he reminds me of you. But every time I answered it felt like you were next to me in the room. I told him about chemistry, physics, about how you pick fights with four miners. I told him about Chernobyl. Though I admit not everything, there is too many things I cannot say, that belong to just me and you. Unprovoked it was then Javier told me he doesn’t love women, and to this day I couldn’t say why. But after all I had said I began not just thinking of myself, but of you in more and more contemplation._

_I am sorry. I never ever contemplated how it was to live in a world where you could never be yourself. You could never tell people who you like, never allow anyone to get close enough less they tell the fucking KGB or worse (if there is any worse). I cannot imagine that loneliness. In the army such relationships between men were not just a myth but was actually quite common. War would drive people into each other’s arms for comfort when there seemed absolutely none in that wretched world. I was never shocked or uncomfortable when you told me and when Javier told me. But I know the real world is an awful cesspit in so many ways unlike war. People are cruel and full of malice and such utter cowards, I loathe them for making you feel as you do, defend yourself as you do. _

_I am grateful to you in so many ways Valera. For Chernobyl, I thought I would be driven insane by your demands and lack of respect. But it was that blunt honesty, that determination that saved lives and I do not doubt saved mine. This world has become a home for now, and not because of the house, the forests and the seas, but because of you. I am at home with you. It scares me to write it, but I have never felt more peace, more contentment in life then I do under your roof. In your garden. I have answers for you Valera, ones I will not write, but I have answers._

_Thank you for everything. With love,_

_\- Boris.’_

Valery’s hands trembled, shaking the pages slightly in his grasp. _With love,_ the words floated around his mind over and over, they bound his chest like thick iron bands. ‘Then come home dammit!’ Valery hissed. He blinked as his eyes started to burn and he rubbed them gently before looking back to the letter. His mind refused to speak the words, but his heart said softly, _‘you are my home too.’ _He began to re-read the letter again, and then again. Until the light began to fade and all the kept the words alive was the dim light of the fire.

_“With Love._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHHHHH!  
I found personal letters so, so hard to write! I mean writing Boris's letter was like writing a chapter in his POV which I have never done before. There was a lot of editing involved....  
I hope you all enjoyed this, the next chapter will be very interesting and good news! less of a wait time for chapter 10
> 
> Until next time!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! Sorry for the long wait but oh boy this chapter is a doozy! Find a comfy seat, get some refreshments get some snacks, because here we go!

Winter had crept in quickly through the glooms of the night, when Valery woke it was to a world veiled in white and silence. It was so quiet, so he felt so should he be. Valery pulled the covers of the couch around his body and with chattering teeth tugged on woollen socks, flexing his toes until some life returned to them. He placed his glasses on his nose and turned to the fireplace to his left, now dead and blackened, _it will have to be relit, _Valery thought. _But it can wait for now,_ he was not quite ready to venture out into the morning’s cold. The usual part of his day dragged him to his feet slowly, regretfully he shrugged off the thick quilts and shuffled into the kitchen where a full kettle waited for the hot flames. Like clockwork, Valery lit the hob and shuffled over to his pantry where a small handful of coffee beans sat lamely at the bottom of its jar. _I will need to buy more soon…_ Valery took them over to his grinder and began to crank the handle. _But that would mean walking into town, in **that**, _the professor frowned at the thick drifts of snow blanketing the world. _Oh for a world with cars. _The kettle started to whistle, and Valery quickly pulled it off the flames before his ears could smart any more from the noise. The coffee grinds, placed in a tea pot frothed at the hot water and he briefly wondered if a splash of Vodka would help waken the joints, but ruefully decided against it.

Soon the brew was in an earthen coloured mug, which Valery held gingerly in his hands, the heat burning before it warmed them. With a sigh, Valery looked at the door, hoping to see a letter with a green seal, but was once again left disappointed. ‘When will you write again?’ Valery asked the empty room. That being said, perhaps it was himself to blame, Valery never responded to Boris’s last letter. What words could he have for such a response?

Back to the lounge, his new bedroom. He idly sat back down, one hand nursing the coffee, the other resting and scrunching into his pillow. It no longer smelt like him. A few of the morning rays caught against something shiny, drawing Valery’s eyes. The dictionary sat pretty on the coffee table like an old friend, impulsively Valery picked it up and flickered through it, seeking words he had not yet seen.

His finger landed on “L”, and he idly browsed through the text.

‘Loquacious, a talkative person’ Valery mumbled in near perfect Ukrainian.

‘Lovastatin, a chemical for medication’, the professor was familiar with it from his old lab.

His finger drifted further down and froze at a word so much shorter than the others. ‘Love’ he said so silently that it wasn’t certain that he spoke. _Intense feelings of deep affection_, he thought. _That doesn’t damn well cover all the other feelings! _But it was only text on a page, it could only do so much in explaining everything. Valery closed the book, distressed and hurt all over again. ‘With love…’ he said, thinking of the last letter sitting with the others. He swigged the coffee, the bitter brew mixing nastily with his heart before it sat in his stomach, it twisted at the fluid and Valery briefly considered eating before discarding the idea. The garden was calling to him, even if it was barren of all his beautiful blooms. Perhaps it could distance him from this “love”.

The winter chill greeted him like a child’s greedy embrace and Valery immediately turned around and wrapped himself in the blanket tightly before even looking back out there. It was still cold, so, so cold and it burned his ears not unlike how the coffee burned his shivering hands. But the silence greeted him with more care than the winter. It stilled his heart that was jumping anxiety and eased his chest to rise and fall deeply and smoothly. ‘Maybe there is something to be said for winter after all?’ Valery said out loud. Wind stirred the naked branches making them clatter in response and Valery eased himself onto the veranda that overlooked the garden. He read of old monks sitting and staring off of their monasteries into the Kathmandu mountains, quiet and proud. Valery briefly wondered if he would fit in as a monk but quickly removed the idea. Living life with a bald head made Valery’s pride wince. Though his garden was barren, the sight of the earth, the tall strong trees now sleeping made Valery smile. His heart did have a special spot reserved for nature and for all things that grew in peace and quiet. It was only when his heart was almost asleep with content that Valery allowed his sharp mind to unpack everything.

_With Love,_ he thought. Valery had never loved anyone before, he never ever allowed himself that luxury, yet to whittle that feeling down to just “a deep affection” seemed so wrong to him. ‘That word deserves paragraphs belonging to it, deserves essays, deserves scientific articles. Maybe then I can finally understand it’, he sighed and began to sup at the coffee. A swatch of snow broke through the trees and landed on the ground with a muffled thud, a branch groaned from the weight of slush, and the wind whistled on and on. The only other sounds to be heard was the quick sips of coffee and the occasional sigh. The sun rose marginally higher in the sky and Valery’s eyes were lazily turned upwards when another sound joined the muffled noises. It was the barest crunching of snow that grew slightly louder with each second, yet Valery didn’t quite notice it.

_But is that how I feel? How do I know, how do I tell? _Valery took a sip of coffee, it was starting to grow cold and he swished the brew around his mouth. _If it is that complex is it even worth the time?_ Valery rolled his shoulders trying to relax the stiff muscles that locked in his sleep, mild pain flared, and he put down the mug. He attacked the muscles mercilessly with his hand, his eyes closed, and his lip pulled up in pain as he dug his fingers in. _Perhaps I should start sleeping in my bed again_, he felt unhappy with the idea, yet his back felt otherwise.

‘You don’t look like you’ve been sleeping well.’

Valery jolted, his free hand knocking over the coffee while the other bunched the blanket around his shoulders. He whipped around to his right, and there he was. There he was leaning over the railings like he did so long ago, there he was with a half-smile so rarely seen that Valery remembered each time it was on his lips. There he was with his silver eyes looking back into his own. His hair was only slightly longer, strands of it ruining the perfectness of his presentation, dark rings surrounded those silver coins. Valery’s mind woke up and analysed everything about this man. He looked tired, tired and slightly battered, yet there was a sereneness in his eyes that were not just looking but seeing into Valery’s own.

Valery’s heart shuddered, it shuddered and burned at the sight of him. Like so long ago, when he was scared or stressed, his jaw seized up and not a breath passed through his lips. They stared at each other without speaking and a wave of emotions passed over Boris’s face drawing down the rare smile that graced his face. Gentle happiness, to confusion and a melting pot of concern and annoyance. He adjusted his feet and opened his mouth to speak before closing it again. Valery could do nothing but stare, his heart hammering violently. 

‘Valera…’ Boris said finally, his name a soft sigh swallowed by the snow. ‘Why are you…What’s wrong?’

Air escaped Valery’s nose and his teeth clutched at each other, he shook his head and looked down at his feet. It was easier like that. He rolled his tongue around his mouth easing the muscles before he could open his mouth, the cold air stung.

‘You’re here…You’re really, here right?’ Valery said.

‘Yes, I told you I would come back’ footsteps crunched in the snow and Valery watched his dark shadow slowly creep around the railings until he was in front of the professor. Valery couldn’t look up, it was like his head was anchored to the earth. A silence existed between them that only belonged in Chernobyl, it was tight and heavy with the pressure baring down on the both of them. It made Valery’s shoulders sag more, it made him not notice the cold numbing his hands. All of Valery’s words came tumbling back down around him, _“I had you…”_

Valery looked up at that, _if I had him then what do I have now? _He looked up and Boris was looking right back, his eyes clouded and his skin only slightly pale, the only signs Boris ever showed of nerves. He looked cold, the jacket he wore was too thin, much too thin to be exposed for god knows how long in this weather. But they are dead so what does it matter? _It matters _Valery thought and shrugged off his blanket. ‘You’re cold’ Valery whispered, his voice gruff and held the blanket towards the bureaucrat. Boris blinked and he reflectively dropped the leather bag he held, the same one from before, into the snow. He took the blanket gently, his index finger grazing Valery’s only a little but it felt like fire sparks at the back of a dark cave danced up his arm. The professor didn’t quite intend it as an invitation, but Boris did, he quietly lowered himself to the steps next to him, not breaking eye contact once. It broke the tension in the silence, no longer oppressive but not relaxed either. It demanded to be broken.

‘How long did it take, to get here that is?’ Valery asked quietly.

‘Five nights I think, but with time here…’ Boris waved a hand vaguely, ‘I do not know for certain.’

‘A lot of walking.’

‘Yes, not quite the shoes for it.’ Valery looked at his feet, and sure enough the nice leather shoes he wore no longer gleamed but were stained from water and dirt. Valery could only imagine how cold they were.

‘Are you…Alright?’ Boris asked, concern filtering out uneasily.

‘I’m fine’ Valery snapped out.

Boris sighed, the way he sighed when Valery was being stubborn or naive in Chernobyl, it was a sigh that new he wasn’t going to get anywhere asking more questions. Valery felt his eyes and looked back up, yet Boris was still only looking at him, a gentleness in his eyes that scared and intrigued him. He opened his mouth to say something, anything all words failed him for a moment.

‘Valera’ Boris began, his eyes drifting away for a moment. ‘I need to tell you- ‘

‘Stop’ Valery immediately interrupted his hand raised. ‘Not right now’ he did not know if he could handle the truth yet. His hands shook and his heart pounded against his ribs, it was the only non-silent part of him.

‘Then when?’ Boris asked, an eyebrow raised.

‘Soon, soon’ Valery looked away, back at the snow caps on his garden and sighed. ‘Come in’ he said. ‘Take a shower, settle in and get warm for Christ’s sake.’

‘I can stay?’ Boris asked.

Valery turned at him surprised, the old Boris would have never even asked, he would have invited himself in, after all this is his home too. The professor looked at him closely, trying to see the change, find it in his eyes, in his skin. But it wasn’t there to be seen. ‘Of course you can stay.’

Boris smiled at him, it was warm and kind and reached his cheeks, his eyes. Valery’s heart thudded and he smiled back, weak and nervous though it was. _I hope this isn’t a mistake._

* * *

Boris followed Valery into the house, and immediately Valery froze as they walked into the living room. _The couch…_ Valery’s face heated as the couch where he slept, where _Boris _slept was strewn with blankets and pillows, where long ago it should’ve been packed away. Boris stopped behind him and looked over his shoulder to the same couch. It was like a spectre was hanging over his shoulder. ‘Ah…’ Valery said, struggling for words.

‘Have you…Have you been sleeping here?’

Valery flushed and quickly walked away from the cursed seat, his tongue twisting in his mouth. ‘It-it gets cold upstairs and the fireplace is the only thing that keeps the house warm’ Valery muttered the half lie and hastily pulled open the cupboard where fresh blankets lay.

‘Glad to see you have been keeping it warm for me.’

Valery said nothing and grabbed three or four of the thick checker patterned quilts, his heart racing all the while. _God dammit what am I doing?! _Valery thought angrily, his hands bunching the blankets. Everything was so different and so, so strange, he half considered fleeing to Gran Gran’s house, or even retracting his invitation to Boris. _No, that will just make things worse!_ Valery struggled and bit his lips painfully. Footsteps approached slowly behind him and Boris’s large hand placed itself on the blankets.

‘I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me to Valera’ he said gently and sincerely.

Valery looked up at him finally, and while his eyes were calm there was a hint of what may have been fear pinching the corners. _“I am at home with you.” _His letters replayed word for word in his mind, _I am his home…_ Valery half turned towards Boris, his hands may have been trembling, but he buried them deeper into the blankets. _And he is mine too, even if…_The thought could not finish itself, yet the professor pressed the blankets into Boris’s waiting hands.

‘No’ he began softly. ‘Stay, please stay.’ The thought of seeing Boris leave again made Valery shudder.

Boris smiled, the fear disappearing from his eyes, and he reached forward, gripping Valery’s arm gently giving it a small squeeze. Valery’s eyes travelled away, unable to look into his for too long, and he spied a thick piece of paper resting in his breast pocket. He cocked his head as he looked at it and Boris followed his eyes until they too rested on the sheet sticking out. He said nothing and gently tugged it from its place, handing it to Valery before he quickly turned away. ‘That’s what Javier drew for me…’

Valery swallowed, remembering the contents of Boris’s letter word for word. He breathed in deeply and gently unfolded the page. All he could do was stare at it, dumbfounded. It was like someone took a photo of him sitting on the bench reading a book, each detail from the texture of his clothes to the individual pages sitting open on the book, the shading of charcoal around his eyes, the wind sweeping up his hair. The tips of his fingers gently brushed against the crooked smiled curling up from his mouth. ‘Oh…’ Valery breathed.

‘Yes well…’ Boris turned back and shrugged. ‘I said he was a talented artist.’

‘Yes…Yes he is’ Valery refolded the paper with great reverence and held it out to Boris. _I wonder if I can have one of you,_ Valery thought. His heart still was beating up and down violently and only grew greater as Boris reached out to take back the drawing. But he didn’t stop. His hand slowly took the paper while the other reached and clasped Valery’s hand, gently. Air gushed up the professor’s nose, and his left foot stepped back, yet his hand stayed, despite his hammering heart.

Boris’s eyes flickered from his hand, to Valery’s eyes, but he couldn’t look too long lest he be soaked away by the ocean in his eyes. ‘I want things to go back to normal. But what is normal to us, Valera?’ he asked softly. ‘Is normal how we are in Chernobyl? Is normal, us before I left? Or is this our normal now?’

Valery said nothing, _how is any of this normal, Borja,_ he thought. Boris’s thumb swiped across the back of Valery’s hand once and then he let go and stepped away. ‘It’s my fault anyway…Where we are now.’

_No it’s not, _the professor thought. _If you didn’t start this, I think I would have._ His mind travelled to the kiss, but he quickly shunted the memory aside as the silver in Boris’s eyes were staring so cuttingly into his own, like he could see every thought, every memory etched into his soul. ‘It’s not’ he finally said. ‘We both…’ he trailed off, _what is it with me not being able to say shit?_ But it didn’t have to be said. Boris smiled again and turned away, quickly approaching the fireplace.

‘I’m glad to be back somewhere warm’ he said and held his hands over the fire.

‘Me too’ Valery muttered but Boris didn’t hear, the warm light of the fire reflecting dully in his hands.

* * *

The first night staying in his bed was an absolute horror. Gone was the warm fire place heating his feet. Gone was the leather seats, crinkling under his weight, gone was the pillow that long-ago lost Boris’s scent. For hours Valery lay on his too comfortable bed, unable to close his eyes that stared at the ceiling. He thought he heard Boris speaking from downstairs, in rough Ukrainian and wondered if he was suffering nightmares again. He didn’t have the courage to check, though the sun did rise, and in its splendour it blinded him, light against the ice. But it was the disturbance that roused him from his sleep.

The sound of a door creaking on its hinges. Valery blinked and frowned, almost wondering why some one was coming into his house, when his heart jumped as he remembered Boris. He strained his ears and listened hard and soon he heard heavy footsteps crunching against snow and ice. _Is he…no, he wouldn’t leave after all that effort,_ Valery thought glumly. But then another noise disturbed the quiet morning. The soft heavy thud and scrape of weight driving into snow. Frowning, the professor pushed himself off of the cosy bed and looked to the window that viewed the garden and woods. Subtlety and stealth was never his strong suit and he bit his lip as he skulked awkwardly towards the left edge of the window and peered out.

He was there, tall and imposing, wearing only dark clothes such as his long and dark woollen coat, if Valery wasn’t already dead and didn’t know him, he would have almost believed it was the Grim coming to send him to his death. Yet in absence of a scythe, Boris held a spade, he leaned in and drove it down swift and strong into the thick snow then dumped the weight right next to him. He carried on with swift and untiring movements. _Maybe not the Grim, but digging graves at least,_ Valery shook his head to rid him of his morbid thoughts, Boris didn’t deserve them. Then he noticed where Boris was digging. The snow fall had landed atop the flower beds evenly making nice rows of gentle mounds, still visible. With a few drives, Boris had exposed the dark and frozen soil buried deep for so long. _Exposing it to the air, thawing the soil, exposed to the oxygen…_ Valery cocked his head and watched as Boris moved slightly to the right and continued his shovelling. He blinked and suddenly Valery was back in Chernobyl, watching Boris pack bags deeply with sand, yelling at solders too slow, too uncommitted at their work.

Something shifted in his chest and Valery quickly found himself tugging on socks and a heavy dressing gown, he left his room and gratefully welcomed the warmth permeating the lounge and kitchen. He was just about to put the kettle on and reach for the coffee when he remembered he ran out yesterday. _Dammit…_Valery sighed and looked outside towards the street, icy and heavy with snow. _Todays the day for groceries then._ As a compromise, Valery pulled out two glasses and filled both evenly with the last of his milk. A meagre offering but one that matters all the same. Not without a little trepidation Valery walked through the lounge, his eyes drifting towards the couch, blankets rumpled before he looked towards the back door and pushed it open. The cold air greedily slapped him in the face like a wronged woman and Valery puffed his cheeks to stop the stinging. Boris looked up immediately and watched him for a few moments.

Valery nodded and placed one glass on the rail, a few droplets of milk running down the side. ‘More likely the milk would do better out here then in the fridge’ Valery said and leaned against the wall.

‘You’re right about that’ Boris said, his voice slightly richer in the morning air. ‘No coffee?’ he asked as he sauntered up to the glass on the rail.

Valery shook his head, ‘ran out yesterday.’

‘Shame, I should’ve come the day before.’

‘Hm’ Valery half laughed and took a sip of his milk, the cold liquid refreshing a dry throat he didn’t know he had. Valery watched Boris take a deep swig of the drink, his throat bobbing with each sip and awkwardly looked away. ‘What are you doing anyway?’

‘Spring may come soon, better to have fresh soil then wait half the season for it to wake up.’

‘And what gives you the impression that spring is coming?’

‘Feel it in my bones’ Boris said, his silver eyes trained on Valery’s. ‘And the snow is getting colder, wetter.’

‘That just seems like winter to me.’

‘Didn’t say it wasn’t winter Valera, its just a sign of its last few breaths.’

Valery shrugged and stilled as Boris drove the point of the spade into the snow and smoothly walked up the steps of the veranda. He leaned back against the wall, barely a handspan away from Valery and watched the trees click in the wind. Valery turned and looked also, his heart beating slightly faster but not noticeably, he looked back and realised his eyes were aligned just over the top of Boris’s shoulders. ‘Are you just tall, or am I short?’

‘Ha’ Boris laughed a little bit. ‘I think you’re average height, it’s me that’s tall.’

Valery nodded, slightly appeased by this. ‘Were you having nightmares last night?’

Boris breathed heavily out of his nose and nodded, ‘yes, I was.’

‘Thought that they might’ve gone away.’

‘Why is that?’

‘When you left, you said you were burning. Thought you came back because the burning has stopped?’

Boris turned and looked at him, his eyes examining every inch of his face and Valery could only pray he wasn’t blushing. ‘I did think about those things, but I came back for other reasons.’

Valery nodded but deliberately didn’t think of the other reasons he could’ve returned, ‘how old were you, when you served in the war?’

‘I was sixteen.’

‘Sixteen?’ Valery exclaimed. ‘But drafting only excepted eighteen-year olds?’

‘I lied about my age, I was tall then too, so the recruiters didn’t know or didn’t care about my real age. Stalin didn’t’ he said with some bitterness.

Valery edged away from the Joseph Stalin topic, all too aware of the crimes he committed against the Ukrainians. ‘My father served in the war also’ he started.

‘Most men did’ Boris muttered.

‘I was only three or so when he left, but old enough when he came back. Do you want to know the first thing he said to me when he came home from war?’

‘I’ve missed you Valery, you’ve grown so much?’ Boris half tried.

Valery laughed and shook his head. ‘No, he said he wished he had me twenty years ago, so I could’ve served and not him…’ Valery sighed his father’s stern and beady blue eyes watching him from his memories.

‘Your Father sounds like a bastard.’

‘He could make a criminal look a saint’ Valery agreed.

Boris was silent for a few moments. ‘Valera, can I ask you a personal question?’

Valery blinked and considered him for a moment. _What is going to ask?_ He thought. ‘Sure.’

‘You could say that being here and being alive is not very different, right?’

‘…Yes you could say that to a point.’

‘So…Did your feelings for when you died,_ why_ you died come here with you?’

_You mean why I killed myself, don’t you?_ Valery turned back to the snow and sipped his milk. ‘I will be honest Boris’ he started. ‘I killed myself, but not because…Oh I don’t know. It wasn’t my isolation that drove me to the noose. It played a part, definitely, but it was more that it will make my tapes, my messages taken more seriously.’

‘So you wouldn’t have…done that if you weren’t cut off from everyone and everything?’

‘I was already dying Boris. I mean you saw my body, I didn’t look exactly healthy, did I?’ Valery could scarcely remember that he once belonged to that old decrepit body and gave a silent thanks to whatever, or whoever gave him the body of his youth once more. ‘It is likely I would’ve been dead within the year. So no maybe not. But I may have been only using the tapes as an excuse, even I don’t know’ _Only maybe though…_

‘Did those feelings stay with you though?’

Valery thought for a moment. He thought of his twisted feelings the moment he arrived here, his sadness at being brought to a new house, just as empty and larger then the last. He thought of the strangers the anger he received from the people. He thought of the loneliness. ‘For a time, but they went away.’

‘How?’

‘Gran Gran, the garden…and you.’ Boris said nothing and Valery turned his head to look at him and was surprised to see him smiling his crooked half smile. It reached his eyes and was looking into his and nothing else. Valery’s stomach warmed gently at his gaze and smiled back.

* * *

Valery allowed Boris to work the garden, there was a restlessness about the man that could not be quelled. He drove his spade deep into snow time and time again with a strange almost hostile determination and a frown ever present on his face. Twice Valery almost went forward to help, or to talk to him, yet that thunderous frown was carved from rock so he ever made it beyond the door. For the second time Valery pulled back from the door, his hand hovering hesitantly over the handle, he wondered why he frowned so but didn’t quite believe it was him that is the cause.

_He said in his letter that he has answers…Could he be thinking about those?_ Valery swallowed nervously and hastily turned back to the fire. _What can I say in any means to that?_ His hands were so close to the fire that it was near burning and he listened over and over to the heavy thud of spade in snow. _What can I do? What should I do?_

Tap, tap, tap, a quiet noise echoes from the front door and Valery startled at it. He turned at once just as it sounded again. _Must be Gran Gran. _He walked calmly over and pulled open the door just as the Babushka was about to knock again.

‘Valery child, I haven’t seen you in days!’

‘Sorry babushka, I’ve been…preoccupied’ Valery shrugged awkwardly and moved his hands restlessly. Gran Gran made a move into the house and the professor hurriedly stepped aside as the old woman rushed into the warm kitchen.

‘I swear it is getting colder out there!’ she scowled and rubbed her hands restlessly. ‘I pray for a Sinaloa summer!’

‘Well the coldest part of winter tends to be the very end in my opinion.’

‘Is that what you Soviets call a silver lining?’

‘Yes perhaps’ Valery weakly laughed.

‘Have you…Have you gotten any more letters? With Javier?’ Gran Gran’s amber eyes were coated in a film of hope.

‘Ah, actually no I haven’t. But- ‘

Gran Gran sniffled and blew her nose. ‘I would go to him if I could, but I don’t know where and-and’ she scowled and slapped her hand onto the bench. ‘If he could just come to me! I need to see him!’

‘Boris is here’ Valery said quietly.

Gran Gran froze. ‘What?’

‘He is here…In the garden’ Valery nervously pointed his thumb to the back door. ‘He just got here yesterday.’

Gran Gran stared at Valery as if a duck flew out of his mouth, and then all at once she moved too quickly for anyone of her advanced age to move. She all but flew towards the back door and ripped it open with a fury to make a storm a delightful event. ‘YOU!’ she bellowed out the door. Valery all but ran after her, _Oh god please don’t tell him, _Valery didn’t even know what Gran Gran could tell but it scared him all the same. He pulled up just behind Gran Gran to catch Boris staring at her with a startled expression. 

The old woman threw out a torrent of rapid Spanish and marched down the steps, _waded _in snow until she was just within Boris’s reach and repeatedly hit his arm. ‘WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING! LEAVING LIKE THAT- ‘

_Oh Christ._

‘-RUNNING AWAY! AND WHERE IS MY JAVIER, WHERE IS HE?!’

‘Babushka’ Boris said gently.

‘DON’T YOU _BABUSHKA_ ME!’

‘Gran Gran’ Boris slowly took her hand that was beating against his arm and held it gently. ‘Its okay.’

‘NO ITS NOT, YOU-YOU FOOLISH- ‘

‘Javier is coming here’ Boris said. Gran Gran struggled for a few more seconds before his words hit her like a bus.

‘J-Javier?’

‘He is coming here. When the winter ends, he will come here. I gave him directions’ Boris said with a softness Valery could scarcely believe was real. His eyes were gentle and knowing and his hand slowly rubbed her arm. Valery felt his stomach pinch at the sight and was unable to watch the tenderness he showed Gran Gran in that moment.

A harsh sound pierced the air and Valery’s eyes quickly looked up just in time. Shiny tears ran down Gran Gran’s soft face, falling past her wrinkles and her beautiful eyes stared into Boris’s for a time. ‘He’s coming here?’

‘Yes.’

She cried earnestly and all at once, her hand clutching at Boris’s as she leaned into his arm. If he was surprised by the vulnerability, he did not show it and held her gently to his chest. Feeling helpless, Valery stumbled down the stairs and trudged through the snow before holding her shaking shoulder in his hand. He looked up and his eyes met Boris’s that were looking at him with a queer look that seemed to be looking at the very bones of him. Valery couldn’t help but look away, his eyes drifting to his feet clogged in the snow before looking back up. But he was still looking right at him as always, and Valery didn’t know what to do but look right back.

* * *

Gran Gran stayed for most of that day, asking Boris only questions about her Javier, he attitude had completely changed towards Boris. All that tenderness and affection she once had had returned in its entirety, she was a fountain of excitement and joy that her son was coming. Yet Valery was watching her speak and his anxiety never left that she would say something about him and Boris. About the contents of those letters, he is certain that Boris intended them for his eyes only.

She cooked them both a meal, delicious and utterly unpronounceable yet all three of them sat at the dining table. Gran Gran pestered Boris with questions for the entire time, yet Valery couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable for the entire meal. Every time he looked at Boris all he could see was their fight on the cliff, the venomous words they both spat at each other. And his feelings! They both terrified and compelled him towards the bureaucrat, many times during the meal, Valery’s gaze would drift towards him only to quickly look away as Boris’s silver eyes flickered towards him. But all things end. The sun had set when Gran Gran finally excused herself, after fussing over dishes and what not. She even gave Boris a hug before parting, yet when she was about to leave her gaze turned to Valery. She held his arm and made him walk her to the door.

‘Valery child, are you okay?’

‘I don’t know Babushka’ Valery whispered.

She rested a gentle hand on his arm and gave him a motherly squeeze. ‘Be honest, with yourself and with him. He kept looking at you tonight, I think he has something on his mind.’

_“Valera, I need to tell you- “_

‘I know, I know. I just…’ Valery trailed off and sighed his face falling.

Gran Gran smiled at him, ‘be brave young one’ she said. And then she was tottering off home through the snow and the cold.

‘Well that was nice’ a voice said behind him.

Valery jolted slightly and turned to see Boris smiling at him. ‘Ah, yes it was’ Valery said awkwardly.

A tense silence returned to the house, Boris stood there and opened his mouth a few times before giving up and sighing as he turned away. ‘Is there…anything that needs to be done around the house?’

Valery thought that even if there was Boris wouldn’t be able to do much, it is no secret he had a maid or two aiding him when he was a live. ‘No, its fine. There is nothing to do around here.’

‘Okay good.’ Boris looked to his side for a moment and when he looked back at Valery, there was wild agitation burning in his eyes. ‘I’m going to bed now then.’

He didn’t give Valery anytime to say something as he turned and walked away quickly into the lounge. _There is nothing I can do_, he thought.

_Well you could talk to him,_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like Gran Gran said.

_No._

_He wants to talk to you!_

‘Yes but what can I fucking say!’ Valery muttered angrily. He wasn’t ready to be vulnerable again, to let his heart be crushed gently. It wasn’t late enough to sleep, despite the scant amount of rest he got last night, but still Valery hurriedly walked up the stairs to the second floor, grateful that Boris was in the bathroom, so he didn’t have to see him. He pottered around endlessly in his study. Glancing over the meagre number of books he has collected on his shelves, mainly stories and classical fiction but something to distract him for a time. It didn’t distract him from the letters though.

So it was all too soon that he found himself putting back a book who’s name he couldn’t even remember and found the package of letters in his hand. He had memorised them all, there was no need to read them again, and yet he craved the words etched in to the paper. The kind words the gentle ones that could have even been tender if he didn’t know Boris any better than he did. He held a cigarette to his lips and dragged on it, when had he started smoking? The very smoke drifted and coiled around the words as Valery read and he swallowed a lump in his throat he didn’t know was there.

‘With Love.’ Out of all Boris had said that was the one thing he couldn’t get out of his mind. It made him twitch and fidget and he dragged more heavily on his smoke letting the acidic fumes seep into his clothes. ‘What does that even mean?’ the dictionary did not help matters in the slightest.

Time past slowly, but it passed, and Valery soon found himself re-reading the letter for a second time when he heard _his _voice downstairs. The voice was loud and rough, angrier and more _frightened_ than usual. _A bad nightmare…_Valery swallowed and hit that cigarette again as a particularly hoarse word echoed around the house.

_“With Love.”_

‘God dammit!’ Valery hissed while snubbing the cigarette. He quickly walked down the stairs and without a thought approached the man moving restlessly. There was sweat on his brow, and his hands were bunched tightly close to his chest. ‘Boris’ he whispered and gently shook his shoulder. No changed happened and Valery made that crucial mistake me made the very first time he discovered Boris’s nightmares. He got too close.

‘Boris!’ he said and leaned in slightly. The affect was instant. The man lunged, his strong hands grabbing Valery by the shoulders pulled him close until their faces were but a hand span apart. The professor leaned back in fright but it did no good, his grip was strong and there was an angry wildness in Boris’s eyes and a feral snarl pulling at his mouth, rumbling out of his throat. _He doesn’t recognise me!_ Valery thought and panicked. ‘Boris!’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘Boris it’s me!’

Some of that wildness disappeared and the snarl faltered in his throat. He stared at Valery, with cold angry eyes that could have promised violence once. They both didn’t move, even though they were so close to each other, so close that Valery could see the texture in his eyes. He swallowed and gently moved his hand to cover one of Boris’s. ‘It’s me, it’s just me.’

‘Why do you smell of smoke!?’ he growled.

‘What?’

‘Why’ Boris started, ‘do you smell, of smoke?!’

‘I was having a cigarette?!’

Boris sighed and let his free hand move from Valery’s shoulder. ‘Don’t…don’t do that again.’

Valery swallowed and nodded, ‘was it the war again?’

‘Of course it was the fucking war!’ Boris growled and rubbed at his eyes. ‘It always is, it never goes away!’ Valery breathed heavily and didn’t move an inch, he felt foolish and still a little scared, maybe noticeably so because Boris soon looked at him with suddenly sombre eyes. ‘Did I hurt you again?’ he asked, his voice shaking slightly.

‘No, I’m okay.’

Boris squeezed his shoulder and they both looked at their hands, Valery’s on top of his. They both quickly moved away. They were silent again for a time and Valery wasn’t brave enough to look at him. ‘Valera’ Boris finally said.

Valery slowly looked up and Boris was leaning towards him again. ‘What can I do, to make things normal again?’

Valery stared and felt his heart start to race again. _No, not now! _He thought. ‘I don’t know’ he said softly. A change passed over Boris’s face, and something like grief filled his eyes, he sighed and rubbed his face.

‘The smoke Valera, the burning. I smelt it and all I could smell was my comrade’s pyre, the smell of bombs and charred meat. The smell of trenches. I just…I can’t have that smell around me when…if you wake me up again.’

‘Okay, I won’t do that again’ Valery promised. ‘What can I do to help now?’

Boris looked at him again, his eyes drifting around his face, his body and he sighed with such resignation that Valery felt wounded hearing it. Still he waited and Boris slowly moved his hand towards Valery. ‘Can I…I need to know something or someone is alive around me…’

_Alive figuratively speaking_, Valery thought but nodded apprehensively. Boris leaned forwards and Valery’s heart palpitated roughly in his chest, any capacity to breath ceased as Boris pressed his hand into the professor’s chest, right above the heart. Boris breathed deeply and closed his eyes, just listening, just _feeling_ Valery’s heart in his hand. ‘It is easier when I am near you’ Boris said in Ukrainian, and Valery pretended to not know what he was saying yet his heart thudded almost painfully in his chest. Boris eventually opened his eyes, looking directly at Valery and then slowly pulled away. The more Valery looked the more he was certain Boris did not want to do that, the more he was certain that he didn’t want Boris to pull away. Boris sighed and looked at the fire, his displeasure and grief written plain as day on his face. ‘It’s okay Valera, you can go.’

‘No.’

Boris looked at him with a scowl. ‘What more do you want?’

Valery leaned forward this time and there was no hesitation as he pulled Boris forward and held him with his arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders, his head pressed into its strong length. Boris jolted in surprise, his hand hovering on either side of the professor. But Valery didn’t care, he was warm, he was solid, and he was there in front of him. Nothing really mattered in that moment. ‘Why?’ Boris asked, his voice rough.

‘Because you are home’ Valery muttered. ‘And I’m so glad for it!’

Boris breathed heavily and it shivered in his chest, even Valery felt it through the layers of cloth. Arms wrapped around him, strong and solid that Valery felt bound to him and never wanted to leave. A weight settled against Valery’s head and he tilted his head in further, allowing warm breath to circle around his neck. _If this is all I get, then it is enough_. His head pressed more against Valery’s and his heart hurt painfully but it felt so good, it felt so right. Boris held him tighter and they stayed like that for uncountable time.

* * *

Valery woke up on the couch. After so long kneeling on the ground, holding each other before they finally had pulled away, but for hours they sat and they talked to each other, with no apprehension from either of them. About their lives about the war about so many things that time slipped through their fingers like water. Valery only struggled to the couch when his eyes could scarcely stay open. He looked groggily over to Boris, who lay prone with gentle breaths puffing out of his mouth. _He is a gentle sleeper when he is at peace,_ the professor thought.

It was cold and when Valery finally shrugged off the blankets covering him he gritted his teeth to stop them chattering together. He looked once at Boris wistfully and hurried into the kitchen where there was new coffee and a hot stove.

‘Oh thank goodness’ he muttered and held his hands out over the stove top but only for a few minutes before he lugged over the heavy kettle and set it down to boil. He needed that bitter sweet drink to shake off the dregs of sleep. He was just reaching for his coffee grinder when he heard familiar footsteps behind him and turned to see a weary man leaning against the wall. His hair was ruffled and his eyes tired, yet the atmosphere was gone from last night, and Valery felt his heart jump nervously by the way he looked at him.

‘I’m sorry if I woke you up’ he said.

Boris shrugged and that serious look never left his eyes. ‘We need to talk’ he grumbled.

Valery’s heart beat faster, he looked away for a moment while gently put down the grinder. _There is no avoiding this now_. ‘Yes…I suppose we must.’

Boris nodded and stepped into the kitchen, his large frame imposing and strong as he looked deeply into Valery’s eyes. ‘Can you understand me?’ he said in Ukrainian.

‘Yes’ Valery also said in Boris’s mother tongue.

Boris nodded and leaned back against the bench, his arms folding across his chest. ‘You have never mentioned the letters.’ Valery said nothing so Boris continued in Ukrainian. ‘I assume it was you writing them, right?’

‘Of course it was Boris’ Valery said softly.

‘Do you still want your answers then?’

‘I don’t know, do I?’ Valery muttered seriously.

‘I thought a lot since I’ve been gone. About you Valera, how could I not?’ Boris stood away from the bench and walked closer to the professor. ‘What do you want me to answer first? If I can that is.’

‘Okay…’ Valery took a deep breath. Fear lanced up his spine and he would’ve felt more comfortable if he was back on that helicopter about to fly into an open reactor. He only had one real question. ‘Why…Why did you kiss me?’

Boris took a breath and lifted squared his shoulders like a man ready for a military inspection. ‘Because I wanted to, I believe.’

_He wanted to!_ Some hope pounced in his heart and he quickly shunted it away, locked up for now. _Treat this seriously, treat it professionally. _‘You believe? You don’t know?’

‘I know how you made me feel, before hand anyway’ Boris took another step forward and Valery’s heart started racing. His voice was pained and rough as he spoke, ‘I know how I felt every night, when you would pull me from my memories. When you would sit and talk to me like everything is alright even though it wasn’t. When you held my hand each night Valera! Do you remember doing that?’

There was some nights that Valery would only realise far later that he was holding Boris’s hand. There was some nights where he swallowed his fear and pride and sought it out. There was some nights where it was Boris who took Valery’s hand. Valery nodded quickly.

‘I know how you made me feel everyday when you would make me coffee, when you would smile and say good morning!’ Boris took another step closer and it was barely a meter between them now. Nervously Valery tried to take a step back, but his foot bumped against the stove with nowhere to go. ‘When you planted fucking Irises in the garden for god’s sake! And you know what I kept telling myself? That this is what comrades do for each other, this is just a deep friendship, one that I cherish but it is no more than that Valera.’

‘So-So that is how you felt, then why did you-why did you stop?’ Valery asked his tongue felt thick and heavy in his mouth and his chest rose and fell quickly like bellows.

‘Because I was scared!’ Boris said and stepped closer. ‘In Chernobyl I had no time to understand what the fuck I was feeling. And even when I died I could barely understand how I felt, do you know how shocked I was that _I _kissed you?! How shocked I was that _you_ kissed me back?! I had no idea how you felt until after all of that Valera. I had no idea that I could be so, so happy living with you, seeing you every day, talking to you every day!’ Boris stepped closer and closed the gap. Valery couldn’t help the breath that hitched in his throat as Boris’s hands reached and cupped his face and his head, fingers flossing through his rich red hair, fingers gently brushing and curling against his skin.

‘Then why did you leave?’ Valery asked his voice shaking so terribly that the Ukrainian was almost butchered.

‘Because I was scared about how much I love you!’

Valery froze and so did Boris. His silver eyes were bright, and he went to pull away, but Valery’s hand snapped up and held his in place, though his finger trembled violently. They were still so silent that the house swallowed every noise until the kettle began to shriek on the stove, but still they both did not move. _He loves me_…Fuck the dictionary, it can keep its poor definitions.

‘I love you too’ the words fell out of his mouth and Boris’s shoulders slackened at his words.

They both searched each other with their eyes, searching for the honesty that was written so plainly on both of them, searching for the deceit that does not exist at all. Valery’s heart thrummed and he was almost as surprised as Boris to feel a little smile curl on his lips.

‘Oh fuck this’ Boris muttered before he leaned in and kissed him. Valery’s breath jumped, it had been so long that he had nearly forgotten how soft his lips were, how earnest and wanting his fingers were as they carded through his hair, grazed his cheek. Valery’s face tilted and he found himself already kissing him back fiercely. He didn’t realise that his arms wrapped around Boris, that his nose bumped against his, all he could realise, all he could feel was the hunger, the want the _love_ that they gave each other. Their claws sank into each other’s hearts and there was pain there for Valery, such wonderful and exquisite pain that he was loved for once in his life. And if Boris were to rip his away it would break Valery’s heart completely. But he didn’t. The kettle whistled on, begging for attention, but the two men had no interest in it. _With love…So that is what it meant_, Valery thought, his fingers sliding down Boris’s neck. When air demanded their attention they finally parted, yet Boris pressed his forehead to Valery’s and is beautiful eyes said everything that doesn’t need to be said again.

I love you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did it! I fucking did it! the fic caught fire and my boys did it! Holy shit this was so fun to write, I stand by my statements that chapter 8 was the most emotionally difficult to write, chapter 9 was the most technically difficult to write, but oh boy Chapter 10 was the most satisfying!
> 
> Thank you everyone for your kudos, your comments, I doubt I would've made it this far without them. I'm sad too say there is only one chapter left and then maybe an epilogue if I do not cover some things in the final chapter. Until next time!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, this is it, the final chapter. Thank you for reading this story, I've not had more fun writing these than I had writing anything else. Some of our hearts deserve some peace too I hope this gives everyone hope.
> 
> P.S. Check the tags haha

Valery’s whole world shifted in the span of a few hours, awkward eye contact and breaths, paused for words they wouldn’t say turned into gentle touches and words speaking of everything and nothing. When there was silence, he would look at Boris to find him looking back and a small smile would always curl on the man’s lips. It was unreal, at first, he very nearly believe _it _didn’t happen, and that this was some taunting dream designed to mock the professor. Yet he would look at his reflection and see for himself the change. Valery’s hair was still mussed from Boris’s fingers, little red marks on his neck from where his fingers his _lips _dragged. His own lips were plumper and brighter like someone had been gently testing them with teeth, and his eyes…Valery could scarcely believe that his eyes belonged to him, they were bright and glossy with happiness he had not seen for so long.

They had sat in front of the fire, their shoulders touching because nothing disturbed them nor could anything if it tried. It was during one of those infrequent breaths of silence that Valery felt his chin drag against his chest and sleep pull his eyes down into nothingness.

‘Valera’, a hand dropped on his shoulder softly. Valery said nothing and looked at Boris with content eyes. ‘Go to sleep.’

‘I don’t want to’ he muttered and leaned his face close to Boris’s.

‘I don’t particularly want to listen to your complaining when you wake up with a sore back’ the man said yet he was still smiling, and his eyes were warm.

‘Pah, you wouldn’t believe how many times I slept at my desk at the university, a sore back is an old friend’ he mumbled.

‘Then a bed is a friend you need reacquainting with. And believe me, I can well imagine how many times you slept at your desk.’

‘I’m willing to forgo such reunions if I can stay here’ Valery looked up at Boris and a flash of the old doubt resurfaced. ‘Unless you want me gone?’

‘Ha’ Boris’s laugh was fake, but his eyes were amused. ‘I would like one night where I didn’t have to see the sun rise yet your eyes dark and body weary. Let me put my personal wants aside for you please.’

‘You could argue I want the same for you, and if you want me to truly stay deep down in that political heart of yours… I will’ he smiled coyly, and Boris snorted. ‘I will only go if you promise some true sleep for yourself?’

‘I may be a politician, but I don’t always lie Valera, I won’t make that promise just yet.’

Valery’s heart faltered a little and his smile disappeared from his face, _what I would give to see you well and truly rested._ ‘I will come down here if you need help, Borja.’

Boris rested his hand against his face, and he leaned into it, relishing the warmth. ‘I know you will.’

* * *

Despite his promise to finally have a well-rested sleep, Valery couldn’t close his eyes, nor did he want to. The press of Boris’s lips against his was with him for every breath he took, his finger on his neck and head haunted him in the most pleasant way. His fingers found themselves touching his face trying to find a change in its topography yet there was no difference in the texture of his skin, of his lips. It was rather embarrassing, _thank god no one is here to see this_, he thought and gingerly ran his fingers through his hair. _No experience in love, no experience in romance…_He thought of his words down by the fireplace and cringed slightly. _And desperate words coming in pairs!_ Images of his students flashed in his mind, of suitors dogging their partners constantly in the corridors, of cheesy words and clingy displays of affection. Valery had often felt embarrassed for them and their partner, who more often than not looked annoyed at the clinginess. _God forbid I turn into **that**._ So when he heard the first muffled whimpers and choked words of night terrors, Valery waited in his bed for one minute and then another, and then, only **then** did he allow himself to step onto the cold floor and make his way down stairs.

He saw Boris, and he wanted to touch him properly, to hold him tight. But he remembered his mistakes and learned their lessons well, he’d rather not be attacked again. So quietly he approached and smelt his skin, making sure not a whiff of smoke was present. He crouched beside Boris’s curled body and spoke words in Ukrainian so softly it was like he was talking to himself.

‘Boris’ he said. ‘You are not there anymore.’

Other such soft words were spoken, and soon Valery reached out and took his hand, his thumb running over the back of it until Boris’s fist unclenched and relaxed. His pulse drummed on, but soon his mumblings grew quiet and his breaths more even, making Valery smile.

‘Back so soon?’ Boris grumbled and peeled open his eyes. They were bloodshot and his pupils were little pinpricks staring so intently at Valery that he felt naked.

‘Hmm, you would have seen me sooner or later.’

Boris smiled slightly and nodded before he twisted his neck left and right making them crack loudly. The professor winced at the noise but watched attentively as Boris sat upright slowly and with great care, like he was in pain. Valery waited, wondering if Boris would take him into his arms and hold him, kiss him. It was a humiliating thought and it was a horrifying realisation that he is indeed like those clingy students that he was almost glad when Boris did no such thing, he sat and like he does every night, he sighed and looked tiredly into the fire. _I’m expecting him to take me in his arms like the hero to some welcoming damsel in the movies…Is that not how love is supposed to work?_ He watched Boris intently for a few moments, thinking how right now is no different to any other night, despite the kiss, despite the confession. _He said he loves me…Maybe this is how he loves and has been doing it this entire time._ It was a balm to his wounded embarrassing hope.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked quietly.

‘Sometimes…Sometimes I get cramps. When I move around in my sleep and so on’ Boris replied and rolled his shoulders.

‘Is it your shoulders?’

‘Neck and back mainly’ the man rubbed aggressively, his large elbows sticking up awkwardly as he tried to tackle the bunching muscles. Growling he dropped his arms at the useless ministrations. ‘They get fucking stiff and hurt for days!’

_Maybe I need to make the change._ And idea formulated in Valery’s sharp mind, making him blush slightly. He weighed it like he was weighing chemicals on a scale, then balancing the equations, forming a list of possible reactions. The possible reactions that Boris could make to his idea. _But this…whatever we are, requires boldness,_ he tugged the neck of his shirt awkwardly and was grateful that the light was so dim that his blush was lost to the gray light.

Valery stumbled to his feet and nearly shouted at the poor man. ‘Borja, when was the last time you slept in a bed?!’ _That was perhaps too much boldness…_he had to restrain his hand from slapping his forehead.

Boris sat there, stunned and a little confused. ‘Ah, when did I first start sleeping here? Before, I left…’ he asked his eyes trailing to the side awkwardly.

‘Well, you can’t track time here…A while ago I think?’ Boris said nothing and Valery floundered awkwardly. ‘Look what I am trying to say is…’, _come on just ask! _‘My bed is really large, and if you want, you-you could sleep up there…If you want’ he mumbled the last part, his fingers twisting awkwardly.

Boris stared at him for a few moments, a few moments where Valery sweated despite the cold and desperately hoped his blush hadn’t made his face radioactive. ‘So we share the bed?’ he finally said.

‘Or I could sleep down here’ the professor voiced cracked amazingly high.

A small smile began to spread itself on Boris’s face, like he knew some dirty secret about Valery that even he didn’t know. ‘You are already inviting me into your bed?’

Ok so now Valery’s blush was certainly visible, he gaped like a fish at the pure insinuation of what Boris said. ‘Well okay then have fun downstairs’ he scowled, turning to leave Boris in his dust when the man in questions chuckled lightly.

‘No, I’m in dire need of a bed Valera’ Boris hauled himself upright and followed Valery a few meters behind him.

_Okay, this is happening…_the professor swallowed, a bright image painted itself in his mind, of sunlight streaming in through his window, of two people beside each other, _entwined_ with each other. _Stop making yourself cringe! _As delightful the idea was, he couldn’t believe it was realistic. _It is most likely will sleep back to back and that will be the end of it_, he consolidated to himself. He opened the bedroom door, grateful he had picked up his clothes from the floor earlier, but books were lying at the foot of his bed, so he awkwardly scooped them up and dumped them on the sun seat below the window.

‘You’re a lucky bastard’ Boris suddenly said, breaking the silence.

Valery jumped and turned sharply, blushing more at the smirk that was still stretched over Boris’s mouth. ‘What?’

‘You have an ensuite’ he pointed his thumb to the bathroom door hanging open. ‘My house didn’t have that. Or a garden.’

‘…Well’ Valery shrugged awkwardly and held his hands in defeat. Boris snorted and looked at the bed, one side clearly rumpled. He adjusted his striped sleepwear and made himself for the neat portion of the bed. The professor could do nothing but stare. It was a large bed, but when Boris folded himself under the covers, he couldn’t help but realise he will be lying within a meter away from this man, it suddenly made it seem small to him.

Boris glanced at him and gestured vaguely to the ceiling. ‘So? Are you going to go to sleep?’

‘Ah, I think I might just…There actually was some interesting books in my study I haven’t gotten around to reading yet. I think I might- ‘

‘Oh for god’s sake Valera, I don’t bite!’ Boris scowled. ‘Hell in the army I had to sleep shoulder to shoulder with men in the stinking parts of Siberia, without the comforts of a bed. This is nothing.’

_Yes but I have very rarely shared a bed with someone, and now I am with **you**_. Valery sighed and rubbed his forehead, _you invited this…_ Hesitantly he approached the bed and slipped under the covers quickly. But if he hoped for silence and a painless slip into sleep he was mistaken.

‘You invited me up here why are you nervous now?’ Boris asked.

Valery stared up at the ceiling, finding it a might too intimate to toll over and face him. ‘I don’t normally do this Boris. I don’t know what to do…’

‘Do nothing’, a solid hand placed itself on his shoulder. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. Think of sheep, think of those math equations, that would put me to sleep anyway.’

He sighed and pulled his glasses off his face and placed them carefully on the bedside table. ‘I know. But maths interest me, it would make me stay awake if anything else.’

Boris said nothing and didn’t remove his hand and soon the man’s breathing slowed and dragged deeper and deeper into his chest. _He must be so tired to fall asleep so soon. _But he became a source of comfort, the warmth of his hand on his shoulder and of his body mingled with the duvet. Boris muttered in his sleep and it made Valery smile. Yet he still couldn’t close his eyes for a long time, he allowed himself the luxury of revelling in his presence, of exploring his words and their kiss in his mind. Despite the anxiety, the professor found himself wanting to get used to this.

* * *

Sunlight filtered through the windows and Valery peeled his eyes open only to wince at bright beams. _Should’ve closed the blinds,_ he scolded himself and shrugged. Yet as he moved his shoulders something warm and heavy moved with him and rearranged itself over his chest. Blinking quickly, he turned his head to the right and stiffened in surprise from Boris’s arm wrapped loosely around his chest. _Oh…_ he thought and turned his head a little more. He was close, his dark head only a handspan away from Valery’s red hair, his breaths even and deep. And while his body wasn’t touching him it was neatly folded very close in the same position as Valery’s. When he breathed, at the very apex of his breath, Boris’s chest gently pressed against Valery’s back just before it receded. Something warm shifted in his heart that made a smile grow on his face. _I do love you so._ Despite that Valery couldn’t help but wonder what Boris would think if he woke in this intimate moment and the smile faded. _He may not want this…_ Gently, tentatively, he touched Boris’s hand and made to move it off him when the man stirred and sleepily folded his fingers through Valery’s.

‘…You’re awake?’ he whispered.

‘Sadly’ Boris mumbled, his voice rich and deep. He yawned and then lay their folded hands back over the professor’s chest. ‘This is the best sleep I have had in years…Don’t end it for me so soon.’

Valery felt his smile return and slowly moved himself back into position, a little bit self-conscious of the wide grin spreading across his face. The world won’t miss them for the morning, and he relished the warm arm holding his chest and hand. He was only just closing his eyes again when he felt Boris move slightly. Dark hair danced across his face and Valery opened an eye just in time to catch the Ukrainian pressing a soft kiss against his jaw. _Oh I could definitely get used to this._

* * *

Boris never moved back to the couch. While Valery never invited him back into his bed, every night he would go upstairs and smile to himself as Boris followed. While they would start the night apart every morning, he would wake to find the two of them close, their arms and sometimes their legs folded over each other. One morning Valery woke to find himself pressed against Boris’s side, his head resting on his chest, rising and falling with each breath. It also became part of a ritual, when Boris waited for Valery to be half asleep, he would always lean over and press a kiss to his cheek, forehead or jaw and once even his lips. The only indication he was awake was the smile that followed of Valery’s face. It was wonderful. So much so that their mornings would stretch longer into the day just to have an excuse to be near each other. The room began to change too, Boris’s clothes filled the empty draws, his shaving kit in the ensuite and books he reads sitting on the bedside table.

For once though, the professor managed to slink out of the bed before the sun reached its summit, he slunk downstairs quietly and was preparing breakfast. He cracked eggs into a frying pan one at a time. As they bubbled and spat in the pan his mind wandered. _The days are getting warmer,_ he thought. The temperature has indeed been affecting things, with two to a bed neither of the men required their long-sleeved sleep wear, and Valery was delighted when that resulted in Boris wearing a tight t-shirt. His arms were large at a distance, up close they were solid beams of strength and refinement. His shoulders powerful boughs that hinted at a sharp collar bone and equally strong chest, Valery would know he fell asleep on it once. _I lucked out,_ he thought with a smile. Even thinking about it now made the very pit of his stomach warm and prickly with desire and want. These feelings weren’t uncommon towards Boris but now they just didn’t feel wrong to have and Valery felt a whole lot less guilty. _I wonder when…if things will happen. _Still there are times when he watched Boris deep in thought when he was looking at Valery, and there was still some confusion and hesitation in his eyes at times like when his hands would run through his hair. Or when he pressed a kiss onto his face. _Can hardly blame him, I wasn’t so different when I was working things out about myself. _What their relationship was Valery couldn’t put his finger on nor had he and Boris spoken of it since, despite their mutual feelings and affection.

With a sigh, Valery looked away from the eggs and out the window when a green shimmer caught his eyes. Blinking, he glimpsed and tiny green shoots of grass erupting from the thin snow, and pale glossy buds beginning to decorate the tips of branches like a lady’s painted nails. _Spring is coming! _He smiled again and flipped the eggs, admiring the crispy golden bottom when a sharp knock at the door surprised him. _Gran Gran? _He thought and moved the eggs onto a cold element. _Normally she just knocks and lets herself in, this is different…_Someone knocked on the door again and Valery hastily wiped his hands on a hand towel. ‘I’m coming!’ he called and quickly walked to the door.

_Who could it be-_ he opened the door and felt his jaw drop as a tall brown man with bright amber eyes and long dark hair tied up loosely looked at him and smiled.

‘Ah, the famous professor Valery, it is great to finally meet you, I am pleased to see I drew you well’ the man’s voice was rich with a heavy Spanish accent and he reached forward and shook the professor’s hand with his ridiculously smooth and long one. _Drew me well?!_

‘Are you…Javier?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Yes, I am. Glad to see you know of me’ Javier rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. ‘Is, ah, is Boris here? I would like to see him…’

_Oh. _‘Oh, of course, do come inside please’ Valery stepped aside, and the man gratefully stumbled out of the cold.

‘Thank you, great to get out of the cold. Can never get used to it’ he smiled and walked into the kitchen next to the stove. _Gran Gran says the same thing…Gran Gran! I’ve got to tell her! _But first Valery needed Boris down here, he felt too awkward with a stranger in his house despite two of the dearest people he has knowing him well. 

‘I’ll go get Boris’ Valery said and began to leave the kitchen.

‘Thank you, friend!’ Javier called after him.

The professor smiled awkwardly at the Mexican and hurried up the stairs in a rush. He burst through the bedroom door without a second thought and stumbled into the room. ‘Hey Borja, Ja- ‘he froze as his eyes latched onto the bureaucrat standing by the draws with nothing on but a pair of dark grey pants, Valery’s eyes widened. His upper back was tight and toned all the way from his shoulders to the start of his waist where only a slight amount of softness lay on his waist. He moved his shoulders and muscles shifted and stretched with them displaying sharp and rolling muscles on his arms.

‘Hm?’ Boris turned and met Valery’s eyes completely unfazed. Whatever Valery hypothesised his chest to look like he was not surprisingly correct. Strong and broad with a light smattering of dark hair that quickly tapered down towards his stomach.

‘Ah, sorry, sorry!’ Valery mumbled unable to take his eyes off of him. Boris blinked at him and Valery jumped when he realised that he was staring, nervously turning his head away. ‘Um, he is downstairs!’

‘Who is downstairs?’ Boris asked calmly, an obnoxious smirk stretching on his lips as he folded his arms.

_You’re staring again,_ a little voice thought. ‘Javier’ he choked out.

Boris’s smile blossomed into a grin and he quickly rummaged in the draws for a clean shirt. ‘He’s here! That man doesn’t fuck around’ he turned to Valery excitement lighting up his eyes as he slipped on a singlet and then a dress shirt, hiding from view much to Valery’s blushing disappointment.

‘Ah yeah, he doesn’t’ he mumbled and followed Boris out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

‘Javier!’ Boris called and happily strolled into the kitchen.

‘My friend how are you!’ Javier grinned delightedly. Valery blinked in surprise as the two actually embraced each other with resounding pats on the back and laughter. A tiny sliver of jealousy took root at the base of his heart and he frowned bitterly, wishing it would go away. _Leave it be,_ he thought.

‘You fool, walking here at winter’s end!’

‘More fool you my friend, walking here in the heart of it!’ they both laughed again, and Valery was left confused and stranded on a barren island in a sea of happiness and goodwill. ‘Now I’m afraid I have a long overdue reunion with my mother’ Javier’s smile turned a touch sad and he turned to the professor. ‘I am told she loves you like a son. Please take me to her brother.’

He blinked in surprise again. _Brother? How interesting…_ ‘Come with me’ Valery said and pulled a coat off the hallway wall. ‘She has missed you so.’

‘I know, I know. I wish I could’ve seen her sooner…’ Javier pulled on his frightfully thin coat and Valery was half tempted to give him his own. _A short walk, he won’t be in the cold for long,_ then another thought crept into his mind. _Why didn’t he write to her I wonder?_

Boris followed them out the door, not bothering for any of his own winter wear. Valery looked back at him, feeling his face heat as Boris smiled because all he could see was him smirking and properly shirtless. ‘She is a few houses down the road’ Valery flustered with his shirt collar and they trio tramped through the thin layer of snow. He watched Javier from the corner of his eye. The muscles around his eyes twitched and is fingers fretted here and there with themselves or with his clothes. Signs he knows all too well, signs he has himself. _Both Boris and Gran Gran say we are alike, I see a bit of that now._ They thudded up the gravel path, there footsteps muffled by the little layer of snow when he heard Javier’s breath shudder in his throat. He stopped and turned towards the man who stopped to look at him with those interesting amber eyes. ‘Javier, it will be okay’ he said and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Javier blinked and nodded, his hand falling on Valery’s for a moment before he turned towards the house Valery is so familiar with. He shrugged his shoulders and marched up the steps with some more steel in his spine than before.

‘Hm’ Boris grunted.

Valery turned to him and cocked his head. ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing really, but I can’t help but remember you acting like that in Chernobyl. But it was me who said it would be okay.’

Valery smiled at him and shrugged, _Boris didn’t know it then, but his words were empty promises tied with a dying man’s hope. They helped me all the same_. ‘Maybe you are rubbing off on me’ he said instead.

Boris said nothing but smiled back just as they heard the front door open.

‘Mama’ Javier called and stepped inside. ‘I’m home.’

* * *

Valery sat in his study, idly tapping his finger against a barely touched book, his thoughts wandering to other people. Javier walked into his mother’s home a strange amount of time ago and the low sobs that echoed through the house had sent shivers down his spine and his hair stand on end. It was unnerving it was heart-breaking. He vaguely remembered Boris touching his arm and telling him that they shouldn’t be here, but he couldn’t remember the exact words. The first heart breaking cry was etched into his heart and he couldn’t shake it free.

_I wonder if my mother would’ve cried for me if I met her…_There was no hope in Valery’s heart, his mother died when he was so young there was no heart-breaking reunion for him to look forward to. _Perhaps I should write anyway…_

Footsteps padded through the hall and Valery looked up to meet Boris’s eyes as he leaned against the door way arms folded. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yeah…Yeah, I’m just thinking.’

‘About what?’

‘Javier, and Gran Gran’ Valery sighed and leaned back in his chair.

‘Mm, I know what you mean’ Boris walked into the study and sat on the edge of the desk, making Valery crane his neck upwards. ‘It was difficult. To stand there outside I mean.’

‘…’

‘You’re thinking about something else, aren’t you?’

‘I was thinking about my mother’ Valery sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘She died when I was small, did I tell you that before?’ Boris shook his head, so Valery continued. ‘Obviously I didn’t have a relationship with her, but after hearing _that_, I can’t help but wonder if I should write to her.’

Boris leaned back and pulled a cigarette out of his tin. He lit it and lazily drew back, releasing a cloud of smoke before speaking. ‘Because of how I feel about you’ he smirked at Valery’s slight smile. ‘I think you should pursue what makes you happy.’

‘But?’ the professor asked.

‘But’ Boris began. ‘As a politician, I can’t help but feel that the result would not make you as happy as you think it might.’

‘Sounds like you think I am an optimist.’

‘You would surprise yourself Valera. You are an optimist in wolf’s clothing’ Boris passed him the cigarette which he gratefully puffed on. _He is right more or less. But is it still worth trying?_

‘What about you? Have you ever thought of writing to your parents?’

Boris sighed and nodded. ‘Certainly my father, we always got along so well, but my mother…’

Valery frowned, whenever Boris spoke of his mother it was with the greatest love and affection. _Why so hesitant to contact her?_ ‘Did you two not part well?’

‘She died in the war’ Boris muttered, and Valery froze. ‘While I was gone, in Siberia. When I came home, I found her grave where she had been buried for three years. My father tried to contact me to say she was very sick, but it wasn’t impossible, due to command, due to distance and due to me being Ukrainian. We weren’t the most valued soldiers’ he finished bitterly, his voice becoming rougher. ‘If I was closer, maybe I would’ve been there before she died.’

Valery stared at his desk his heart heavy. _Dying never gets easier even to the dead._ He looked up and placed a hand over Boris’s. ‘Write to her because she loves you. You deserve to see her again, to have that moment with her.’

Boris met Valery’s eyes, dark grey now and glossy. ‘I hope she can forgive me for sharing that with someone else first.’ As he said that, Boris leaned in and kissed Valery firmly, his hands running down his neck. It had been a while since the last of such kisses, yet Valery savoured it, kissing back with a gentleness that slowly nursed his hunger for more, deep into the pit of his stomach. The cigarette lay forgot, smouldering in the bottom of a mug, instantly abandoned. 

* * *

Green in the garden was returning, the shoots of life emerged from the mounds of earth that Boris so diligently pushed the fresh snow off every morning. Valery smiled and gently touched the soft fleshy leaves. The only thing that concerned him was the soil, as the snow melted, and the cold flakes became hard rain it didn’t take much to turn the hard earth into a worrying slurry. _Best to leave it be, unless it gets worse,_ shame he didn’t know what to do if it got worse.

‘Will you plant new flowers than last time?’ Boris asked, sipping coffee while leaning against the rail.

Valery shook his head and smiled. ‘All the same ones, I miss them’, _and irises,_ he thought.

Boris nodded and took another small sip of coffee, Valery watched him out of the corner of his eye. _It is so…domestic,_ an entirely different life to the one he had lived, unless domestication was a commitment to his career rather than a family. It made a thought, an uncomfortable one cross his mind.

‘Boris?’ he said.

‘Hmm?’

Valery fidgeted with his fingers, pointedly looking at the growing grass from the earth. ‘Don’t you have a wife?’

An uncomfortable silence filled the air and the professor racked his brain for any memory where Boris spoke of her in Chernobyl. The information was lacking except for the fact he said he is married and nothing else. ‘I know where you are going with this’ Boris suddenly said.

‘Well are you surprised that I asked? It is important.’

Boris muttered something under his breath and leaned against the rail with a decidedly less content expression on his face. ‘Does it even matter? We are dead, marriage vows explicitly say, “till death do us part”, it’s not really relevant.’

‘It is relevant to me!’ Valery scowled and fully faced Boris. ‘What happens when she eventually dies? What happens to…this?’, _what happens to us?_

‘I find it very unlikely that she will end up in this specific part of the…Afterlife, whatever this is. It seems a little up to chance where you go.’

‘We ended up here together.’

‘Chance’ Boris pointed at Valery. ‘A very fortuitous one.’

‘Okay well what if she _does_ end up here? Or if she travels and arrives here all the same?’ the professor asked exasperatedly.

‘Valera, nothing will change!’ Boris set his mug on the rail and waved his hands with some frustration. ‘My wife’ he scowled at the mere mention of the relationship. ‘And I, we separated a long time ago.’

_Oh._

‘Oh’ Valery said. Silence filled the garden again and he awkwardly toed some snow with his shoe.

‘Well aren’t you going to ask why we are separated?’

‘…If you want to?’

Boris sighed and walked down the stairs and into the garden until he was shoulder to shoulder with Valery. He looked at the dirty snow and idly scraped some off the earth with his shoe. ‘We were friends before I perused her’ he began, but Valery’s ears burned at the thought of Boris dating a woman, it seemed so unusual after everything. ‘She was- no is a beautiful woman and we understood what each other wanted. I wanted a wife who I could take to cabinet functions, who would be beautiful, smart and charming, the envy of all other men. I wanted someone who could help me have beautiful children. And that was really it’ Boris sighed again and continued. ‘It took me a long time to realise, that while I liked her, quite a bit in fact, I never loved her. But she knew this for a long time and didn’t say anything. Looking back, I think she tried, to make me love her that is. But I was too committed to my career and it took its toll on her.’ He sighed and there was a sad anger that glossed over his eyes. ‘I was such an ass to her.’

‘…So she was a trophy wife?’

Boris shook his head and a tiny smile curled on his lips. ‘Never, ever call a woman or a wife that.’

‘Why?’

Boris looked at him with an amused expression. ‘You don’t know much about women do you Valera?’

‘Does that question need to be asked?’

‘So she left, once the kids were old enough to live their own lives. She said she could no longer be part of a love-less marriage, she wanted someone who loved her back’ Boris turned fully to Valery. ‘I’ve regretted many things in life, but that is one of my biggest ones, not knowing, hell even ignoring how she felt every day.’

Valery nodded and stewed for a moment, idly nudging snow with his shoe. Of course the thought occurred of whether or not Boris loved him, it made sense after such an omission. But he decided not to dwell on that, Boris is an honest and noble man, he wouldn’t believe that he lied to him about his feelings after all his actions. ‘Well…fair enough.’

Boris laughed a little and then turned a wicked smile onto Valery. ‘Alright then Valera, tell me of your conquests!’

Valery face enflamed while his jaw flapped like a fish. ‘Conquests! What do you mean- ‘

‘Boys!’ a joyful voice called out. Valery felt a wave of relief wash over him and sighed, Boris shot him a look, one that said “I’ll get those answers” before turning to Gran Gran who bumbled around the corner. Valery grinned at the old babushka, it had been too long since he saw her, but was surprised to not find Javier at her heels.

‘Hello Gran Gran’ he said.

‘Babushka’ Boris smiled. His smile twisted into a surprised half smile as Gran Gran made a direct bee-line straight for Boris and pulled him down for a bone crushing hug.

‘Thank you’ she said. ‘You helped bring him home.’

‘Yes…I suppose I did’ he replied, a large hand resting on her old back.

For some reason, seeing the two-embrace made something shift inside Valery. It was moving aside the dark corners of his heart, pushing some semblance of normality that he had not been privy to for all of his life. He turned his head and rolled his tongue around his mouth, trying soften the twisted expression openly displayed. It took him a while to guess what this feeling was, while Boris and Gran Gran spoke in soft tones to each other. But it was as others may have known for a long time, it was familiar, it was family. And it was his.

‘Gran Gran’ Valery suddenly said. The old woman turned to him and smiled so brightly that she seemed ten years younger. Perhaps her son returning had changed so many things, the bow in her back was gone, and so was the slump of her shoulders followed by the motherly frown always gracing her features. Valery smiled at her, he owed her so much that he would never shake his debt off, nor did he want to. ‘I’m glad you’re happy.’

Gran Gran only smiled wider and strolled over to Valery where she took his arm in her and rested her gnarled one over his. ‘So am I Valery, so am I.’

‘You can call me Valera, Gran Gran…if you want to.’

‘Valera…’ she rolled his name around his mouth and nodded. ‘I like it, it suits you.’ Valery could only smile. _Family, _the single word danced over his mind, and he relished how good, how right it feels. ‘Come’ the old Babushka said and began to walk to the house. ‘We have a lot to talk about.’ It wasn’t lost to Valery how her eyes flickered between Boris and himself multiple times, he didn’t feel the smile stretching from the corner of his lips, but she saw it very clearly. ‘Oh, I see’ she whispered her grin spreading to an even greater one. ‘You have much to tell me.’

_Oh indeed I do._

* * *

The nights grew steadily warmer so the cold that once imprisoned Valery to his home was slowly withdrawing its grasp. Extra blankets on the bed had been removed and packed away for another winter, windows were pried open for the cool night air to stir the insides of the room. It was the perfect combination of temperature for the professor. Spring was his favourite season after all. Strange things did occur though. As spring marched forwards so to did Boris’s nightmares, they were muted for a few long nights but now they slowly rise their menacing head.

Valery woke to a strange withering close to his right side, one that was pressing hard against the mattress aggressively dragging him away from his gentler dreams. ‘Boris?’ he mumbled, rubbing some grit from his eyes. There was no reply apart from harsh growls that made the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end. Tentatively, Valery rolled on his side, careful not to touch the man as he moved slightly. His face was furrowed in wrath blended with fear, yet the noises he made was animalistic not unlike a wolf’s warning growl. ‘Boris’ Valery whispered and gently touched the top of his fist, ‘Boris, Borja.’ His hands enclosed around the man’s fist and gave the gentlest shake possible, but the effect was instant. Boris’s eyelids flicked open like blinds, and his eyes, his beautiful silver eyes were massive black pools filled with rage and fear. Before Valery could even speak Boris grabbed his shoulders and slammed his back against the mattress, his large fingers digging deep into his flesh and his face looming over the professor’s. He gaped, his heart beating in his throat as he tried desperately to get out of his powerful grip. ‘Borja, it’s me, it’s me’ he whispered. He gently let go of his fists, ignoring the burning pressure building in his shoulders as he gently wrapped his fingers around his bare forearms. ‘It was just a dream. It’s me.’

Boris blinked rapidly twice, the noises growling in his throat choking as he quickly pulled away and his face twisting in horror. ‘Oh. Oh fuck, Valera. I-I’ the man scrambled off the bed and backed away very quickly where Valery could only stare. _I’ve never seen him so distressed!  
_‘This-this was a mistake.’ 

‘No, no it isn’t’ Valery said and climbed out of bed.

‘This is the third time Valera! The third fucking time I’ve hurt you because of this! What about next time? What if next time I break your arm? Or I- ‘

Valery slowly walked up to him until there was barely a handspan of space deviating the two. ‘You won’t, you always stop. And it is never, ever your fault!’

‘It will be if I- ‘

Valery cut him off. His hands reached the back of Boris’s head and pulled him down suddenly before he could resist. But it was his lips that silenced the self-loathing argument pouring from Boris’s mouth. _These lips…_ Valery thought as he pressed their faces closer, waging a delicious war against Boris’s which were frozen in shock. _They deserve vodka, honey, they deserve the ocean wind chaffing at them, they deserve the warm sun. They don’t deserve those words-_ Boris’s lips parted and parted Valery’s as his tongue slipped into his mouth, killing any syrupy thoughts that danced in his mind. 

‘Ah’ Valery gasped, a surge of heat rushing through his body as Boris held the back of his head, the other pressed tightly at his back forcing their bodies together. He kissed him back, letting his mouth, his tongue embrace Boris’s in a wicked dance. Valery ran his fingers into the man’s hair, down his neck, over his shoulders that were so sculpted and broad that his simple shirt was stretched tight. His legs suddenly knocked against the edge of the bed with a spike of pain, he hadn’t realised that they had been moving, but Boris kept approaching and he was pressed down against the sheets and blankets as the man crawled over him. It was like a tiger leaning over its prey. ‘Oh’ Valery gasped as he suddenly pulled away. His eyes travelled to Boris’s parted lips, redder and shinier like cherries and his eyes staring so intently straight at him.

‘Tell me to stop’ Boris whispered, his pupils expanding into deep pools of want.

‘Not a chance’ Valery said. Boris’s silver eyes looked slowly up and down Valery blasting heat that matched his own. He shifted his weight, pressing delightful pressure against his cock, the professor chocked, his chest rising and falling like waves on the beach. Boris glanced at him again and licked his lips. One simple movement, one simple look of desire in his silver eyes as his tongue dragged against those warm and oh so soft lips made Valery’s heart race. _I want you, I want you so god damn much._ He twitched his fingers and slowly dragged them down this man’s chest never breaking his eyes away. He had never looked more beautiful. _Now you tell me when to stop. _He didn’t.

‘Valera, tell me what to do.’

So he did.

* * *

The nights began as they usually did, each night sleeping apart only to wake up close again, or, they followed a different path altogether. Only when Boris struggled with his nightmares did Valery wake him with a kiss that always grew into soft and earnest touching. Boris asked him what to do, so the professor, ever diligent in his teaching happily directed what to do, where to do it, but not everything and not all at once. Boris always lead the direction, and most things were instinct and not needing instruction, whether it was idle touches down Valery’s bare chest or even down his pants. Recently, his looks were far more…direct, like a person recently introduced to power, they always wanted more. Soon Valery noticed that his desires grew beyond the pleasures of mouth or hand.

A large hand slowly traced the knots of the professor’s spine, he smiled crookedly, noticing, wanting what Boris was building towards despite the lack of nightmares. _Well I will not rest like this…_Slowly he turned over meeting Boris’s warm silver eyes that promised heat at the centre of them. He held them for a moment, then his eyes slowly dipped down his throat, his chest around his cock, already half hard and then back to his eyes. _What do you want Borja,_ he thought. It was his smile that set him off. As Valery smiled broadened only by the slightest quirk of his lips, Boris’s touched his shoulders, pushing him on his back as he moved over him.

‘Mm’ Valery sighed as the man kissed him, his lips dominating Valery’s, bruising them, his tongue already parting the professor’s lips, tangling against one and another. He clutched Boris’s head, pulling him in until their chests were pressed against each-others eliciting a soft sigh from him. They parted for a second as Boris pulled up his shirt and threw it aside before hastily shedding his own. Their hand touched and moulded each other’s body, finding the flaws finding the perfection that was so delightful. Boris tasted his flesh, his teeth nipping at the skin between his neck and shoulder, making Valery flutter on the sheets, light flashing in his eyes as he dragged his nails down Boris’s back. Leaning forward, Valery tasted him in kind, tongue dragging heavily on his collar bone.

‘Shit’ Boris grumbled and lurched his hips forward, dragging his member against Valery’s.

The professor moaned, both men’s breath coming short as they slowly started grinding and rutting against each other. Pressure built in Valery’s centre, shivers and lightning flashing down his body only to pool at his cock as he pressed against Boris who moved with equal vigour. Subtly, Valery dragged his fingers down the exposed parts of his chest, drawing lower and lower until his thumb was swiping leisurely against the head of Boris’s cock as it was pressed against his own. A dab of moisture stained his underwear, Valery swiped his thumb again dragging the fluid and making Boris shiver.

‘Dammit Valera!’ Boris cursed pulling away aggressively, his hands clamped on Valery’s hips trying to drag the pyjama pants down. Anticipation clouded his brain and the professor eagerly arched his hips letting the pants and underwear be completely removed. Fingers dragged across his stomach making it quiver and before long, Boris’s long fingers were stroking down his shaft, cupping his balls drawing out curses and heart moans alike from Valery. Boris’s silver eyes were glowing as he stared at Valery, his fingers dragged lower and gently teased the opening knot of his ass.

His breath caught in his lungs choking out whatever words that tried to fall from his lips as Boris added a second finger after licking it. It teased and prodded, never pressing inside, making Valery quake from anticipation and Boris only stared at him with burning eyes and patience that would destroy them both. Not wanting to move but desperately seeking more, Valery opened his legs wider drawing a satisfied growl from Boris who gave in a pressed his fingers deep inside. ‘Oh god’ Valery whispered, raising his hips higher, trying to aim the man’s fingers to the special spot as he eagerly finger fucked him. His fingers never made the mark, only edging around it or skimming over at best making Valery moan and shiver violently but no more than that. _Oh god are we going to fuck or what?! _Reaching down, Valery pulled down Boris’s pants as far as he could and eagerly reached, rubbing his hand up and down his bare cock eagerly. _He’s large, god damn he is large! _Valery hissed and Boris groaned in kind, his fingers accelerating their pace. ‘Boris! Borja!’ Valery hissed.

‘What?!’

Valery lost his words and stared at the man leaning over him, whose fingers pressed and pushed delightfully at his centre. Swallowing, he decided not to speak but leaned over to his bedside table and removed a small bottle of liquid from his draw. Boris’s brows rose high, recognising the object. ‘Do it’ Valery whispered. ‘Do it now.’

Boris sighed long and hard, his fingers slowly pulling out causing a void that made Valery moan. The man shed his underwear that was already half down his legs and Valery felt his cock twitch eagerly as Boris spread the clear thick fluid all over his length. They shared a look, one heated desperate look, for confirmation for direction, Valery nodded eagerly and slowly Boris lowered his length and pressed it against his entrance.

Valery shook, smothering a moan with his fist as Boris slid inside an inch, before Boris stopped a shaky noise rumbling out of his chest. Valery tried to control his twitching hips but they refused to be stilled, withering against Boris’s body. ‘Jesus Christ!’ Boris growled his large hands lifting Valery’s legs, hauling them over his hips, bringing them closer.

Valery hissed as Boris sank deeper inside, making his insides pulse as the shaft dragged over the sweetest spot. Hearing his gasps Boris frowned and withdrew until it was only his head remain inside, ignoring the feeling of Valery’s pulsing walls and delicious warmth. Taking his time, he slowly pushed himself deep inside again, going all the way up to his balls that tapped against Valery’s skin. Valery shook, his cock already leaking more fluid as his hips shook, needing more speed in the thrusts more weight. Boris slowly drew back again making the moans and sharp breaths come faster but the firm control Boris had was quickly declining as the walls pulsed more around his shaft.

‘Borja…’ Valery moaned, his teeth biting delicately into a fist as he rolled his hips desperately against the man. 

‘Oh fuck it’ Boris growled and thrust inside of the professor. Then he thrust again and again, making Valery’s moans louder but shorter as the thrusts came quicker. It was on a line what was happening between them, the passion, the desire brewed towards straight animal mating, yet when their eyes met each-others all there was, was love. It could neither be called fucking or making love because the actions between the two were both. A rhythm was made, Boris’s thrusting was met with Valery’s hips bucking with each motion, all the while the professor tried to smother his cries with his fist. Some habits follow you to the afterlife, it was a necessary habit to be quiet for him, less lethal ears hear his discretion. The pulsing grew within Valery and so soon he felt the lightning shooting down his spine, down to his centre become more and more close to overfilling.

‘Boris!’ Valery whispered, desperate to warn him that. Boris hissed and moved deeper, directly thrusting against that special spot that beckoned sweet calamity. It was enough. Valery sunk his teeth into his fist, fighting back the pleasure that seared as he came, it was so good. Boris hissed again and Valery felt his movements become too erratic for control as he too fell into his pleasure.

‘Fuck’ Boris whispered. ‘Fuck.’

Valery could only chuckle, as his words half described their actions. Boris stilled for a moment, his silver eyes slowly reducing the heat and producing only the deepest of content and happiness. Valery shuddered and rolled on his side, protecting the declining pleasure that remained. He would have to clean himself but not yet. The sheets shifted and an arm was draped over his side, their bodies against one and another’s. It was foreign to the professor, this touch wasn’t necessary unlike his previous encounters with men, where the end was almost like a transaction, once over there was nothing left between the two, no matter Valery’s wishes. _So this is what this feels like, domestication, or is it just what all acts should be, altruistic? _

‘What are you thinking about?’ Boris mumbled, his fingers tracing lines over the professor’s flushed skin.

‘You’ Valery mumbled back. ‘Us, this…It is all so unusual to me. I don’t know what to do next.’

Boris paused, yet his fingers never stopped moving and eventually his head rested against Valery’s making him sigh at the touch. ‘This is unusual to me too, call it foreign if you wish. I never thought I would want to be with a man, nor in this way, but life is funny like that isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is’ Valery mumbled. Boris’s fingers never stopped moving and soon sleep came to claim Valery from his thoughts, from the smell of sex and the warm arm holding him close. Yet when he woke in the morning it was to wanting touches trailing down his body, unasked for yet so wanted. _So this is what life could have been like…_

* * *

The days passed and the slurry of soil warmed, the wet dirt waking up into fertile soil, where grass and the beginning of wild lowers let their green shoots fly like tiny flags to the wind. All snow disappeared from the town and no one new when it would darken the sky again such is the nature of this place called the afterlife. Yet still Boris and Valery did not leave their homes like the other villagers who embraced the sun. Mundane acts were turned into dark carnal moments, simple acts of cooking dinner was quickly forgotten as Boris would take him up against the bench. Or when the professor tried to study and within minutes, he was pushing the books off of his large desk to climb atop the man who he wakes up to every morning. Eventually Gran Gran invited herself in, demanding their attention with a sheepish Javier at her heels. Though Valery was incredibly happy with his selfish new routine with Boris, the guests were welcome, their fresh faces another reminder of what his new life was all about.

He reclined against the steps of his veranda, watching Gran Gran and Javier dig their own hands into the soil fishing out weeds and old leaf litter. He had spoken to Gran Gran and Javier earlier, asking what flowers they would like to see in the new spring, they only smiled and said they would bring some over. The back door opened, and Valery instantly recognised Boris’s steps as he approached and slumped onto the steps next to the professor, their shoulders touching.

‘Set them to work already?’ he asked.

‘You know I could never ask anything from Gran Gran, the babushka just helps herself.’

They both laughed lightly, watching as the old woman scolded Javier for the weeds he flung in his mother’s direction. They sat in silence, and Valery couldn’t help but lift his face to the sun that kissed his brow, _the birds are back, _he thought, watching swallows balance their little bodies on the edge of twigs budding green.

‘Valery!’ Javier called and waved at the professor.

‘Hm?’

‘You must show me your book collection! I hear it is huge!’

‘Huge? Hardly, but you are more than welcome to take some home.’ Javier smiled, a bright white streak lashing over his tan skin when Gran Gran smacked his shoulder and ushered him back to work. ‘He’s a good man’ Valery said to Boris.

‘He is’ he was silent for a few seconds. ‘I told him by the way, about us.’

‘Oh yes, how did that go?’

‘The man had the audacity to laugh!’ Boris grumbled, crossing his arms haughtily. ‘He said he knew it, for some silly reason.’

‘What was the reason?’ Valery asked, a smile curling at the corner of his lips.

‘Apparently, I would say much more about you than myself or anyone else when I stayed with him, I don’t think I did!’

Valery could only laugh, it was bright a vibrant and echoed through the garden. He felt Boris’s eyes on him as he did and was aware of the gentle smile that stretched across his face. ‘Well he would’ve found out anyway, I told Gran Gran.’

Boris snorted, ‘of course you did.’

The comfortable silence returned, it being broken only by the swish of the swallows or the chattering between Javier and Gran Gran. Eventually it too was broken when Boris sighed.

‘This is different you know? This place, how I live, it is not at all what my life was.’

‘Yes, I can agree with that’ Valery nodded and turned his face towards the man he loved. ‘It’s good though, it’s quiet and calm, a little bit of lightness in the shadow of whatever life is. It is also ours.’

‘Yes, and I like that more than most things here’ Boris ran his hand up and down Valery’s spine. The professor slumped his shoulder, the warmth of the hand relaxing him like the easing of a taught rubber band. ‘I’m at peace here, with the garden, with Gran Gran and Javier. With you.’

‘To think these are such words we could never say if we were alive’ Valery opened his eyes and looked into Boris’s silver ones, so bright and uncanny amongst the green grass and blue skies. ‘But I too have peace here, with you and everything. I finally have it after all these years. This is ours.’

‘This is ours’ Boris grinned so brightly Valery was in awe at how it lit up his face. ‘And we god damn deserve it.’

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I should say something at the end now that it is all written and done. There is so many things I wanted for both Valery and Boris that I don't know if they ever had, they both deserved love and peace so I carved a little story for them here. What an adventure this has been! I have a thirst or more so keep checking the Valery/Boris tag it is likely that I will write more. I don't think I would've gotten this far without all the kudos and comments from everyone here, since chapter one i've had support and I couldn't be more grateful for it, and to think this has nearly 1000 hits! It's a mile stone for me and you all got me there.
> 
> Thank you all again, it has been a pleasure. You will see some more Valoris fics from me soon.  
Until next time!


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